


Wonderful Inventions

by tcs1121



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Big Bang Challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-08-06
Packaged: 2017-11-11 14:42:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 36,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/479612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcs1121/pseuds/tcs1121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The quirky, absent-minded, yet brilliant Dr. Jensen Ackles created big, successful, life-saving inventions. However, while working on his newest project, he was struck down by a devastating illness, leaving Dr. Ackles still quirky, absent-minded and brilliant, but...happier.</p>
<p>Misha, Jensen's long-time professional and personal assistant, now helps Jensen manage his delusions, seizures, and hallucinations, which Jensen takes in stride. But when Dr. Ackles picked up Tristan one morning by the Boardwalk, professing an unexplained yet all-encompassing love for the street walker, Jensen became happiest of all. He loves his life, his life, his <i><b>life</b></i>. </p>
<p>Until the court tries to take it all away.<br/>~~</p>
<p>Loosely inspired by <i>Man of La Mancha</i>, but is not a re-telling.</p>
<p>~~<br/><i>Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be.</i></p>
<p><i><a href="http://www.dalewasserman.com/">Dale Wasserman</a></i><br/>~~</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wonderful Inventions

**Author's Note:**

> **My Artist** The amazingly talented [emattbax](http://emattbax.livejournal.com/). A wonderful, gentle artist creating images for my words.
> 
> **My Beta:** My friend [kee](http://kee.livejournal.com/). She keeps me honest. She protects me from those who would do me harm. I love her more than just a little
> 
> **A/N** Written for the [SPN-J2 Big Bang 2012 Challenge](http://spn-j2-bigbang.livejournal.com/).
> 
> **Disclaimer** : Untrue story. Character names used without permission. No money changes hands

  


~~  
 _Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life as it is, and not as it should be._

_[Dale Wasserman](http://www.dalewasserman.com/)_  
~~

****

Wonderful Inventions

~~*~~  
Part One  
~~*~~

Jensen stared at the computer screen, furiously jotting notes on a yellow notepad beside the keyboard. The familiar pounding in his head was constant now and his eyes were feeling the strain of trying to keep the two computer images together as one. 

"Come on, come on, come on." Jensen smacked his head with an open palm. The grip on his pen faltered and it clattered to the floor. 

"Damn it, god _damn_ it." Jensen leaned over and felt around for the pen. 

"Where was I?" Jensen attempted to ignore the headache drilling into his brain and the numbness in his fingers and left leg. "Where _was_ I?" The equations on the screen swam in and out of focus no matter how hard he hit his head or rubbed his eyes. 

Despite all this, a smile ghosted Jensen's lips. 

"You're in there." He slapped his head again. "I've almost got you."

Squeezing his eyes shut, since only one of them was working now anyway, his fingers flew over the keyboard. He entered numerical information, spacing down, and tabbing over, pausing briefly to scribble blindly on his notepad. 

Above the throbbing in his ears, he heard a rhythmic knocking.

"Jensen, what's going on? Are you okay?"

_Oh no, not now._

"Go _away_ , Misha." Jensen scrunched his eyes closed even harder. _'I've almost got it, I can almost see it.'_

"Jensen, _open_ the door."

"Go away. _Go!_ " 

A white hot spike of pain seared into his brain. Jensen grabbed his head with both hands and toppled backwards off his chair, slamming onto the hardwood floor. Jensen swore that the top of his skull had cracked open and that grey matter was spilling out of his ears. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw double images of his office chair on its side, and two fuzzy Misha's looking down. That was a plus. At least both eyes were working again.

Misha knelt and carefully turned Jensen over, hefting him into his lap. "What have you done to yourself?" His fingers trembled as he brushed Jensen's hair back.

"Misha? What?"

"Relax. You may have done it for real this time, old friend."

Blood filled Jensen's mouth and he leaned over, spitting it out on Misha's pants. "S…sorry."

"You always do things in big ways, don't you, boss?" Misha wiped Jensen's nose and mouth with his sleeve. "Hello, 911? This is an emergency. I need an ambulance."

~~*~~

"Mr. Ackles, you've been having symptoms for a few months now, is that right?"

Jensen shifted his head on the pillow, looking bleary-eyed at Misha. " _Is_ that right?"

"Yes, for about a couple of months Jensen has been complaining of headaches, blurry vision, and forgetfulness, especially when finding words. Oh, and every now and then he said he smelled patchouli. The moron," Misha slapped Jensen's hand, ″wouldn't let me make any doctor's appointments for him.″

"Yeah, he's right about the patchouli and the no doctor thing," Jensen admitted sheepishly. ″And, uh, actually it's been longer than that.″

″Longer than two months?″ Misha sat up. ″How much longer?″

″And sometimes I can't see out of my left eye very well, or like, at all.″

″Why didn't you say something sooner, you ass?″

Doctor Norbert inclined his head toward Misha. "And your relationship to Mr. Ackles?"

"I'm Misha Collins, his assistant."

Jensen punched at Misha's arm, missing by several inches.

"I'm also his friend, confidante and chief cook and bottle washer—and have been for many years."

"Yes. Many, _many_ years."

″Which is why you should have told me sooner, jackass.″

The physician finished typing into his computer tablet and then checked Jensen's IV and vital signs. 

"How do you feel right now, Mr. Ackles? We've given you some pretty powerful pain killers." 

"It's Doctor," Misha corrected. "Doctor Ackles."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Dr. Norbert fingered the touch pad, making the correction. "Dr. Ackles, how are you feeling?"

"Like my head will explode if I look to the right."

"Okay, I'd like to do a CT scan and an MRI. See what's going on in there. Would that be all right with you?"

"Why are you talking to me like I'm a three year old?" Jensen asked. "I have more degrees from more universities..." The pain suddenly ratcheted up from skull crushing to eye bursting. 

"Shit, shit, _shit_. Do whatever tests you want," Jensen moaned. "Do it, do it, _do_ it. Jesus."

"Give him something _stronger_ for God's sake." Misha raised his voice. "Of course he understands about the tests. Now _give him something stronger_."

Dr. Norbert went to the drawer and took out a syringe and attached a thin needle. He used a key to open a locked box above the sink and took out a small vial, scanned its bar code and filled the syringe. He turned to the nurse. "Make arrangements for a CT."

"Dr. Ackles, is there anyone you want us to contact while we're performing tests?" He held up the syringe and tapped it.

Jensen cupped his head in his hands and began rocking with the rhythm of the pain. "No. Nobody else."

Jensen was rocking and Misha was cooing when Dr. Norbert injected a clear liquid into Jensen's IV. Within seconds, Jensen calmed, his face easing away from the hard lines of pain. Misha leaned back in his chair to catch his breath, watching Jensen settle. 

"It's something bad, isn't it?" Jensen panted.

"We don't know yet." The physician pressed two fingers to Jensen's neck. "Let us take care of you."

"Okay," Jensen sighed deep and heavy. "Okay."

"Do what you can, Doctor," Misha said. "Jensen will sign whatever you need, and he'll give his consent for everything." He turned, addressing the man in the bed rapidly losing consciousness. "Won't you?"

"Whatever you say." Jensen closed his eyes. "Always whatever you say."

~~*~~

"Dr. Ackles, we have the results of the CT and the MRI, and have identified a brain tumor primarily in the right parietal and temporal lobes with some encroachment into the right and left frontal lobes as well. However, from the way it presents on the MRI, it's benign, operable and treatable." Dr. Mahmoud spoke with a mild, lilting accent.

"How operable?" Jensen asked.

"Tumor?" Misha said.

"Operable. It's large, about the size of a baseball. We can surgically excise most of it, although we will have to be careful doing so, but we have a great team of neurosurgeons on staff at this hospital, and we are quite hopeful that all will go well. After surgery, there will most likely be a course of follow up radiation but the odds are good for a successful outcome."

"The size of a baseball?" Jensen's voice was barely above a breath.

"Yes, it is a large mass, with tendrils that follow the paths of least resistance into your frontal lobes. But with surgery, radiation and careful follow up, you should live a long life." The neurologist smiled. "You have a very satisfactory prognosis."

"I don't want satisfactory," Jensen said. "I want exemplary." 

Dr. Mahmoud was impassive. "You will survive. Your prognosis is satisfactory."

~~*~~

Jensen insisted on second and third opinions. They all had the same Good News. The tumor was operable. Big, but benign and operable and, best of all, not expected to return. 

They all had the same bad news. It was large, at least as big as a baseball and it was squeezing Jensen's brain up against the inside of his skull. Upon careful examination of the scans, they found that strands of the tumor were, indeed, following the path of least resistance as Dr. Mahmoud had said. The tumor was snaking into Jensen's frontal lobes, damaging the part of the brain that contained his personality. 

The good news was that they could save his life, but the bad news was that they couldn't guarantee they could save "him." There was a lot of brain matter that could get damaged during the removal and the radiation treatments after would be hard on the remaining tissue. Basically, they didn't know _who_ would be left after the surgeons finished. 

Yet, all the doctors agreed on the one big thing: it had to come out.

"You've _got_ to do it, boss. You have no choice," Misha whispered urgently.

Jensen looked up at his latest neurologist, "Will I still be able to work?"

"Why do you care? You're richer than God," Misha growled.

"We don't see that your ability to create, learn, and imagine will be impaired," Dr. McCarthy replied. "It doesn't exactly answer your question, but I think chances are good that you'll be able to go back to work."

Jensen heaved a relieved sigh. "What about motor function? Will I be able to walk? I'm already having some trouble with that."

"From the placement and type of tumor, it doesn't look like there should be any major motor issues. It's possible that you'll be weaker on the left side, you may have some mild deficits, but we really won't know until it's over. Brain surgery is tricky, and this kind of invasive surgery always carries the risk of major trauma, but we're experienced and we're very good at this. I know that that's not much of an answer, but I believe it is more than likely that you will be walking on your own when this is over."

"If not, buy yourself a goddamned golden wheelchair," Misha said.

"Anything else?" Dr. McCarthy asked, closing her notebook.

"Yeah," Jensen swallowed. "Will I still be me?"

Dr. McCarthy looked steadily into Jensen's eyes. "We'll do the best we can."

~~*~~

No choice. No choice. No _choice_. They said that. It was what made him say "Yes" to having a large portion of his brain interrupted. That's how he liked to describe it: Interrupted. Pieces were gone now, Jensen knew that, and it was probably too bad, but there was no choice. No choice. No _choice_.

Wobbly. Everything felt wobbly. The tumor went everywhere. Jensen smirked. Everything about him was extraordinary. Even his tumor. Wobbly or not, Jensen had finally gotten to his feet. After weeks of lying in bed and months of rehab, he was up and walking. 

It was wonderful. He walked and walked and walked every day. His left leg didn't hurt much anymore. He knew why it did, then he knew why it didn't. Misha took him on the beach for long walks on warm, sunny days and in the cold, damp weather, even in the _rain_. 

Misha was a hoot. Misha was his friend. Misha, he _knew_ , and more than that, Misha knew _him_.

And Jensen was extraordinary.

~~*~~

"You ready to call it a night?" Misha handed Jensen his bathrobe. "Don't want your keyboard overheating."

"You're funny. That can't happen," Jensen smiled. "Hey, Misha, last night—I had that dream again." 

"You dream a lot." Misha gently pried the mouse from Jensen's fingers and laid it aside.

"This was different, even though it was the same dream. I think we have to go down to the boardwalk tomorrow night. I know now." Jensen slipped his bathrobe on over his pajamas.

"What do you know?" Misha handed Jensen his toothbrush and pushed him toward the master bathroom. 

"Same as always," Jensen grinned. "I know that there are still secrets to uncover, monsters to fight, and love to make."

"I hope you're not propositioning me."

"No," Jensen laughed. "Not that you're not cute as a button, Mish, but, no. There are so many things I have to do in this life. I always knew that I was one of the good guys, now, together _we're_ one of the good guys. You and me."

"Mostly you, Jen." Misha turned off the lamp on the computer desk. 

"Maybe," Jensen agreed, "But you can still come along for the ride."

"A ride? Where are we going?"

"To save the world,″ Jensen replied. ″The waves, Mish. The wind, the waves, and the earth. If we use them correctly, we can save all of us." Jensen peered at his darkened computer screen. "I think I can, too."

"You need to take a break from saving the world, boss."

Jensen filled his water glass, and squeezed the toothpaste onto his brush. "Do you ever think that maybe things happen for a reason?" He brushed vigorously.

"Like what?"

Spit. "Like me. I remember things, and while some memories aren't exactly clear, I am sure. I am so sure. I know there are brilliant things, reas...unam″ Jensen smacked his head lightly with an open palm. ″ _Amazing_. Amazing things that I can do. And if I do them I know he'll thank me. He may even love me." Brush, rinse, spit.

"Is this the same fictitious "he" you're always talking about?" Misha asked.

"You laugh," Jensen said. "You always laugh. But it's true. He's true." A bright ball of light always filled Jensen's chest when he thought of him. 

"You're talking about Tristan, again?"

"Yeah," Jensen sighed happily. "It's not his fault, Mish. It's not, it's not, it's _not_. He's good inside, even if you don't think so at first, and that's why I have to find him. But, I won't find him if I don't look for him. Jesus, I have a lot of work to do."

"Time for meds, old man, and then time for sleep." Misha opened three prescription bottles and poured the medications into his palm. "You don't want your brain short circuiting." 

"I hate them." Jensen pouted. "Sometimes they make me sleep so hard I can't dream."

"I know. Open up." 

Jensen opened his mouth obediently, and Misha popped the meds onto his tongue. Jensen took several long gulps of water.

"I want those dreams, Misha. They help me. Someday, I'll figure out a way to heal my brain _and_ harness the waves. I _am_ a genius, right?"

"Right." Misha said, drawing the comforter down. "You're a hell of a genius."

"There's nothing I can't do, because even though my brain was interrupted, I'm still a genius." He yawned. "Right?"

"You're not only a genius, you're an awesome inventing genius _machine_." 

"I'm even more than that." Jensen climbed into bed. Tonight he had to help his left leg get all the way up, but it didn't hurt, it was just weak. "I'm a hero."

"You're a hero," Misha agreed.

"I already have saved families from floods, tornadoes and wildfires. I'm working on saving ships from capsizing or running aground by having the ship's technology anticipate the weather, forecast the tides, and predict tidal changes from seismic activity well in advance so they can automatically chart a new, safe course." He indicated the dark computer screen. 

"You'll be putting a lot of ships captains out of work."

"Out of _danger_ ," Jensen corrected. "The passengers and the crew will all be out of danger because of me," Jensen said proudly.

"Is that the best you can do?" Misha teased as he placed Jensen's dirty towels in the hamper and threw a pillow at Jensen's head. "One measly ship? Whatever happened to saving the whole world?"

"You ass. I like to start small, but with flair." Jensen grinned mischievously. "So instead of just saving little Timmy who fell down the well, I'll teach Lassie to speak English and then she can tell the whole town the well's exact location."

"She'll have to learn to read a map first," Misha said.

"It's never enough for you, is it?"

They both laughed. Then Jensen's vision went fuzzy and he felt an overwhelming warmth as the image of a young man materialized in his mind. He couldn't put the features into a coherent picture, but he knew who it was.

"I'll save Tristan, Misha. I'll save him, and he will save me."

"Does he need saving?" Misha stacked Jensen's note pads and pens neatly on his desk. "Do you?"

"We all need saving. All of us, me and you." Jensen gazed at his friend, and now his caregiver. "I know, Misha, I know that I'm not the way I was, that I used to be somebody else, and you're stuck with _me_ now, but I'll make it up to you and to everybody."

"Ahh, Jen, you're not so bad." Misha sat on the edge of the bed. "You're my oldest friend, you still are, and you always will be. You don't need to apologize to nobody fer nothin'."

"I _must_ need to. I must have done something wrong in this life to have this happen to me. I'm going to find out what it was so it won't happen to me in the next. I'll do it right this time. For me, for you, for Tristan, and maybe for the whole world." Jensen's eyes expressed tenderness and fatigue.

"Don't worry about me or Tristan. It's time to go to sleep. Let's save the world tomorrow."

"Okay, tomorrow," he yawned. "Hey, Mish? Do we have a car?" 

"We have several."

"Let's go for a ride. Let's go to the boardwalk tomorrow night. Wait, I said that already. Oh, then let's go out to the farm. We _have_ to go."

"Okay. Tomorrow. For Lassie's sake, Jensen, man, go to sleep." Misha stood and exaggerated a yawn.

"You know what?" Jensen snuggled down under the covers.

"What, what, _what_?" Misha complained, playfully.

"Maybe something bad _didn't_ happen to me. Maybe I'm me, only better."

"Nope, you couldn't be any better. You've always been good. You'll always be good." 

"You're biased because you love me." Jensen's eyelids got heavier and heavier. "Don't forget, we have to heat the world. Winter is coming." 

"Winter isn't for a few months, it's June. Go to sleep."

"Tomorrow then. Tomorrow, we go down to the resorts, then we go to the farm. First we find Tristan. I know it's selfish, but I want to find him first. Then we go to the farm, and then we heat the world. You'll help me, right?"

"I'll always help you." 

Jensen's head was heavy, his body was heavy, but his heart was light. "I have a mission. I have a dream. I have a reason. I have a destiny, and someone to share it with. We'll find Tristan tomorrow, okay?"

"Whatever you want, boss." Misha clicked the light off. 

"Good. You know I love you a little bit, right?"

"I love you a little bit, too."

"But only a little bit,″ Jensen said around another yawn. ″Tristan gets the rest." 

"He's a lucky bastard."

"I know." Jensen smiled and closed his eyes. 

~~*~~

Jared's eyes were shaded with kohl. The dark on his lids made his hazel eyes pop, and detracted from the fading, yellow bruises on his cheek. He wore a tight, black mesh shirt, ripped jeans slung low on his hips with the top button undone and flip flops. He was leaning all the way into the driver's side window, ass swaying side to side as he and the john made their financial arrangements. "Road head," Jared leered. "That'll be seventy five. Plus tip."

Jared slid into the passenger's side door. The balding, middle aged college administrator gunned the engine and sped out from the crowded beach and onto a less crowded road. 

"What's your name, pretty boy?" 

"J," Jared purred. "Just the letter J." Jared pulled off his mesh shirt and unzipped his jeans. He always gave his customers a good view. It upped the tip.

"Like _Men in Black_?"

"Like, one letter's all I need." Jared undid the driver's buckle, button and fly.

"You work fast." The john panted when Jared reached in and cupped the driver's cock in the palm of his big right hand.

"Don't got all night," J replied, looking up demurely. "Unless we do."

"Naw, can't afford an all-nighter, but you are tempting." 

Jared's mouth slid down into the driver's lap as they headed out toward the highway, foot pressing hard on the accelerator. "Make sure I don't come until I'm doing at least seventy." 

Jared hummed around the man's cock, pulled off and said, "You sure you don't want a little something extra?" Jared deftly palmed the guy's balls and scooted his hand under to finger his hole.

"Yeah, yeah, okay," Driver panted. "How about after you blow me, I take us to a no-tell and you give me a good topping."

"That's another hundred." Jared lightly squeezed between the man's legs causing the driver to whimper. J moved his hand and shifted his finger, toying the rim. "You do me after, and we'll make it an even two hundred, tip included."

"Won't be able to get it up again even though you are so fucking pretty. Besides, I'm paying you to suck me dry, and I better be goddam dry when you're done."

"As the Sahara," J said.

~~*~~

College Administrator Man dropped Jared off where he found him. It was a much longer, much more expensive evening than the man originally planned, but, as promised, he was dry as dust when J was done with him.

The sky was turning yellow and the streetlights were winking out, signaling the end of another work night. 

"There he is, Misha."

"Jensen, no."

"Tristan!" 

Jared half-turned. Tristan was Jared's middle name, but no one knew that—it wasn't a whore's name. It was more the name of a child from a good family. That description didn't apply to him. 

Jared shielded his eyes from the rising sun and strode down the street toward his world. He would catch a bus to his single room occupancy hotel inhabited by the other outcasts of a good society—the old cat man, the witch lady who blew her brains out on LSD in the sixties, the coke heads and party girls, well past the age to be called "girls." Home, sweet home.

"Tristan. Wait. _Please_. I've been searching for you all night."

On the other hand, Jared could spare a couple more hours and pick up a few extra bucks. 

"Hey there," Jared said, turning around slowly.

"There he is," Jensen said, breathlessly. "I told you, Misha, I _told_ you."

"You told me, Jen." Misha sighed and turned to Jared. He shook his head tightly, indicating that Jared should not do...something.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Misha, and this is my friend, Jensen. Jensen thinks he knows you, but I'm sure he's mistaken. Am I right?" He looked meaningfully at Jared. 

Jared took a look at Jensen.

This Jensen guy was out of breath but beaming. And he was gorgeous. His eyes were alight, reflecting the rising sun. Upon closer inspection, Jared noticed that his pupils weren't quite equal. Stoner maybe. Too bad. Still, Jensen was very easy on the eyes so he used a breathy catch to his voice when he said, "No, you're _not_ mistaken, Jensen. Here I am. We've been waiting for each other our whole lives." 

"See?" Jensen limped closer to Jared. "See, Misha? I told you."

"No, he's _mistaken_." The Misha guy turned to Jared and said, "I'll make it worth your while that you're mistaken." 

Jared was about to say that he was only joking around, figuring the way Misha was talking meant that he could probably name his price, but he made the mistake of looking back at Jensen.

Jensen's eyes were filled with happy tears. "I told you, Misha. See, _there_ he is." He gazed at Jared, shaking his head in awe, never taking his eyes off of him, like Jared was smoke and would disappear in the next breath. 

"Tristan, tell him it's you." Jensen whispered. 

"He's not him, Jensen. He's a street, uh, street kid. He's not your Tristan."

"He is. Oh my God, Misha, look at him. He's perfect, exactly like I knew he would be." Jensen blinked in rapid succession. "He glows."

"Shit. Do you see a glow?" 

Jensen reached out reverently, touching Jared's cheek.

"Jensen, do you see a halo around him?" 

"Yes, yes. I hear humming, too." His eyes glazed over. "Like an angel song."

Misha turned on Jared. "Tell him that you're not Tristan—that he's looking for someone else." He pulled out his wallet. "We have to go."

Jared didn't know what was going on, but he saw how easily Misha opened his billfold. There was nothing stopping him from turning another trick, especially a lucrative one. If this panned out, he might even be able to take a couple of days off from work.

"Sorry, pal," Jared said to Misha. "You're wrong. My name _is_ Tristan. Jared Tristan." 

Like many prostitutes, Jared carried ID –in case he needed to be identified. In his case, it was an actual driver's license. Something he'd kept active from his foster days even though he didn't own a car.

He showed it to Jensen using his thumb to cover his last name. 

Jensen's hands shook, and a tear dripped down his cheek from his left eye. "I hope you're not angry that it took me so long to find you." 

"No, baby," Jared breathed seductively. "I'm not mad at you."

"Mr. Streetwalker, uh, Jared Tristan, please don't do this. My friend is recovering and, just please don't. I need to get him home _now_."

Jensen finally took a deep breath and charged forward. He wrapped his arms around Jared's waist, his head buried under Jared's chin. "So long, so long, so _long_ , and now, here you are."

"So, what can I do for _you_ , Jensen?" Jared rolled his hips up into Jensen who remained plastered to him. All color drained from Jensen's face and he shuffled backwards.

"Not that, Tristan. No, that's not...Misha?" Jensen looked helplessly at his friend. Small muscles in his face twitched and Jensen's eyes blinked uncontrollably.

Misha gently pulled Jensen away from Jared and put his arm around him.

"You've _got_ to go," Misha told Jared. "If you go now, I can convince him that you were a hallucination brought about by the seizure he's having. I'll pay you for an hour. I'll pay you for twenty-four hours. Please, please, turn and go."

" _No_. I just found him, Misha. Tristan, don't go. Don't," Jensen closed his eyes and sobbed quietly. "I knew it was too good to be true. I knew it couldn't be him. How many times, Mish, how many times?" He sniffed. "Why does this keep happening?"

"Twenty-four hours?" Jared calculated his returns. He looked over at the man shaking in his friend's arms. Jensen looked like a sad, abandoned kitten. 

An abandoned kitten with a lot of money.

"He's wrong. It's me, Jensen. Here I am." Jared regarded Misha. "You'll pay me for twenty-four hours because I'm going to give you twenty-four hours."

Jensen was back to beaming a smile that showed all of his teeth, although his lips were twitching and slightly blue. He shrugged out of Misha's grasp and staggered a few steps toward Jared. Misha gritted his teeth. 

Jensen's eyes were glassy and he began picking at the hem of his shirt, "You _are_ here." He trailed off as his eyes flew open and he began staring at a point past Jared's shoulder. Jensen remained transfixed, staring at an object Jared couldn't see. Suddenly, Jensen let out a moan and his knees buckled. Jared caught him right before he hit the pavement. Jensen's eyes were now pinned on Jared. 

"Yeah, I'm here," Jared said. 

Jensen's eyelids flickered. "Thank you, God." He flashed a quick grin, and then his eyes rolled back. Jensen's body trembled, and his legs bicycled for a few seconds. Then his breathing became deep and even.

"Since he's paying you for twenty-four hours, how about helping me get him back to the car." Misha looked up from his wristwatch and headed toward a parked, red Lexus SUV. 

Easiest money Jared's ever made.

~~*~~

Jensen roused by the time Misha pulled into the driveway of a large, beautiful house by the water. His eyes were closed as he said, "That was the most vivid one yet, Misha. I could feel him, I could _smell_ him. I felt his arms around me, his breath on my hair."

Jensen's head was pillowed on Jared's thigh.

"I saw him clearly this time, too." Jensen's eyelids flickered open, and he looked into Jared's kohl smeared eyes.

"He's tall and strong. Handsome and kind. He said he'd been waiting his whole life for me—that we've been waiting for each other. Then he caught me when I fell." Jensen touched the bruise on Jared's face. "I can still see him." 

Jared swallowed and looked around the inside of the vehicle, anywhere but at the man staring up at him.

"Thank you, Tristan, for being there." Jensen's voice was reed thin. "Thank you for being _here_." His hand dropped back onto his chest, and his eyes closed.

Misha watched, sadly.

"What do I do? What am I supposed to say to him?" Jared asked.

"Say, 'thank you.' He's paying you." Misha pressed the remote, popping all the door locks and opening the back door. "Jared Tristan, for better or for worse, you're beginning an adventure you'll never forget, even if it's only for twenty-four hours. Come on, let's get him inside."

~~*~~

Jensen slept like the dead, not even so much as a tic when Jared watched Misha undress him and put him to bed. 

Misha showed Jared to the guest bedroom on the first floor facing the water. Misha had said they'd been up all night looking for _him_. How weird was that?

"You're probably tired. Looks like you were up all night, too," Misha said, not unkindly. "Since you're going to be here all day, you watch Jensen, and I'll run out and get us breakfast and something more comfortable for you to wear. When I get back, you can sleep, okay?"

"Why are you being nice to me?" Jared asked, sharply. 

"Nice? I'm not being nice. I'm being courteous. There's a _difference_. Besides, Jensen will want you to feel at home. Are you an extra-large, extra tall?"

"I don't know." Jared fingered the mesh shirt he wore. "This is a woman's top. Anything without leather, mesh or spikes would be a hell of a lot more comfortable than these." He indicated his shirt and jeans. "Oh, and could you get me," he stopped abruptly.

"Yes?" Misha asked amiably.

"Nothing. Never mind."

"You want some underwear?"

"Yes, please," Jared mumbled. 

Misha looked him up and down. 

"You can take it out of my fee for service." 

Misha quirked a smile. "Keep an eye on him and if he wakes up, keep him company, keep him happy. Lord knows he deserves it."

"How do I do that?"

Misha snorted. "I never thought I'd be telling a hooker how to make his customer happy."

There was no heat or derision to his words so Jared just shrugged.

Misha focused his eyes on Jared. "You're not going to rob us and then take off, are you?"

"I'm a whore not a burglar,″ Jared grumbled. ″There's a _difference_."

"You're right," Misha nodded. "I won't be long." He shut the door behind him.

Jared stared at the closed door as his tired mind asked, "What the hell did I just step into?" 

~~*~~

Jared wandered into Jensen's large, bright, second floor master bedroom and sat beside the bed to watch him sleep. Other than an occasional shudder, or muffled snore, Jensen was out for the count. Jared alternated between looking out the window at the water, and at the sleeping man who was paying for his company. 

"Hey, everything okay?" Misha had a bag from a local surf shop in one hand, and a McDonald's bag in the other.

"You and I both know that I'm just a rent boy. What's with him?" Jared tilted his head toward the bed. 

Misha glanced at Jensen. "He doesn't think you're 'just a rent boy.' Or if he does, he doesn't care."

"Is he crazy?" Jared asked, sincerely.

"Yes. But in the best possible way." Misha held the McDonald's bag within Jared's reach and jiggled it. 

"Thanks, Mister…?" 

"Misha. Just, Misha."

"Thanks, Misha," Jared said, pulling one of the three egg McMuffins out of the wrapper.

"There's coffee, orange juice and a chocolate shake on the counter in the kitchen."

Jared lit up at the thought of a chocolate milkshake for breakfast. His face must have registered it because Misha smiled smugly. They both peeked over at Jensen before walking downstairs.

Attempting to restore his mantle of streetwalker indifference, Jared asked casually, "So, who exactly does your boss think I am?"

"Well, currently, Dr. Ackles is paying both our salaries, so technically he's your boss, too." Misha slid the shake in front of Jared.

"You are so odd." Jared opened the straw.

Misha chuckled and walked over to the big picture window framing the beach and raised his hand expansively.

"Do you see that sun shining on the ocean? The sun that makes the waves sparkle and children's noses freckle—the one, true beacon all sailors rely upon to return safely home?"

Jared fixed his eyes on the blue, sunlit horizon. "Yeah?"

"To Jensen, that's you."

~~*~~

Jensen's house was built at the southern tip of Fenwick Island, Delaware, almost touching the Maryland border. The house was set up high and came with a private shoreline, although the public could still walk along the beach. 

"The ocean is true perpetual motion on Earth." Jensen contemplated the water through the wide open windows of his living room. 

The early evening was warm, but Jensen had slept all day and woken up chilled. He had a cup of hot green tea nestled between his palms.

"I've never thought of it like that." Jared looked out at the panoramic view of the sun setting across the Atlantic. He savored it, as he would probably never get another chance to see it from this vantage point.

"Come sit with me?" Jensen patted the sofa cushion next to him. His smile was lopsided and his left eyelid drooped.

Jared sat so that his elbow brushed against Jensen's. Jared wore the board shorts and T shirt Misha bought for him. He was clean shaven, the kohl around his eyes was gone and his hair smelled like citrus and honeysuckle shampoo. The faded bruise on his cheek was barely visible.

Jensen sighed happily and stroked Jared's arm. "I keep the windows open all year round, because the sound of the waves makes me happy."

"It's very soothing," Jared agreed.

"Waves can be deceiving when they're crashing so gently like they are now. In reality, they can be very powerful. Did you see _The Perfect Storm_?"

"No, but I read it."

Jensen cocked his head to the left.

Jared smiled and said, "I find libraries very soothing, too."

Jensen returned his smile and turned a little on his cushion. "The waves and the sea. Powerful and never ending. Never, ever, ever. Always, somewhere on the Earth, waves are rolling. Harnessing the tides, the currents, and the waves, Tristan, that's what I'm going to do."

Jared laughed, surprised. "How are you going to do that?"

"You're beautiful when you smile."

Jared looked down, his cheeks heating. His johns usually weren't sweet talkers. 

"Don't be shy. You don't have to be shy around me." Jensen scooted an inch closer and lowered his voice. "I'll tell you a secret. I'm designing wave turbines to be situated close to the surface of the water. There's unstoppable, unlimited energy the sea generates every minute. I see giant wave turbines, catching the movement of the water. Platforms built on the surface with sensors to raise and lower the arms of the turbines with the tides. In the case of extreme turbulence, detectors will submerge the entire unit to protect it because it's always calm under water if you go deep enough." 

Jensen grabbed his ever present yellow pad. "About eight to twelve fathoms ought to do it," he muttered to himself. "I'll check that, I'll check that, I'll have to check that. A fathom is 1.8288 meters." Jensen scribbled madly.

Jared sat there watching the sun set while Jensen wrote strings of numbers on sheets and sheets of note paper. 

"Why do you want me here, man?"

Jensen looked up from his calculations. "Oh, Trist." His eyes glistened. "You're here because I finally found you, but you didn't make it easy, you know." Jensen's smiled fondly. "God, I look at you right now and ask, 'How did I get so lucky?' Every minute you're here makes it all worth it. You make everything so _clear_ in this muzzy world I live in. You keep me anchored, you keep me on course."

"You hadn't met me before today," Jared countered. "I haven't done anything to make you think I'm good or bad."

"You carried me to the car and brought me home."

"Misha paid me."

"You brought me home. _You_." Jensen ignored Jared's argument. "Tristan, you're the one constant I have. When I get confused, or bewildered, or scared, I think of you. I think of how you live for others to be happy. Now, I want you to be happy. As happy as you make everybody else."

"That's ridiculous." Jared shook his head. "You're making no sense at all."

"So, what else is new?" Jensen raised his hands, good naturedly. 

"Look, man, stop. You're mixing me up with someone else. You don't know me." Jared made to stand, but Jensen took his wrist.

"Tristan, I do." Jensen tugged him back. "You _are_ everything I think you are, you're just not enlightened enough to see it. Or maybe 'insane' is a better word than 'enlightened.'" Jensen grinned and Jared's heart broke a little bit.

"You know I'm a prostitute, right?" Jared leaned into the couch cushions.

"Yes, I do. It's my fault because I didn't find you soon enough. But now that Misha is paying you, you don't have to do that anymore." Jensen patted his hand. "That's a good thing, right?"

Jared sat speechless and then dropped his head into his hands. 

"What is it, Trist? Misha is paying you _enough_ , isn't he? Enough so you'll never have to fuck strangers again, right?" Jensen bit his lip. "He _is_ , isn't he? Misha!"

"He is, he is, it's not that."

"Then what?"

Jared saw Misha stand in the doorway for a moment before moving on. Jared turned his bewildered eyes to Jensen.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Jensen gently stroked Jared's arm. "You can tell me. Ask me anything. I don't know what I had for lunch—or if I even _had_ lunch—but my long term memory is pretty good. If I don't know the answer, I won't get mad, so _ask_. I took off my mask a long time ago, and you're perfect under yours, so don't be afraid to take yours off, too."

"What?"

"You can take your mask off. You won't surprise me because I already know who you are underneath."

"Jensen, there's no mask, man. You're just not seeing me, you don't know who I am at all. How come you don't you know that? What the hell is wrong with you?" Jared stopped. He was never rude for no reason. So far, Jensen had been nothing but kind. Strange, but kind. 

"You called me 'Jensen.' It sounds so good when you say my name. And you finally asked what you wanted to know. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I did?" Now Jared wanted to know what the hell was wrong with _him_.

"What's wrong with me? Is that what you want to know?" Jensen looked into Jared's troubled eyes.

"I didn't mean it that way." He really didn't, and it saddened him to think that he insulted his temporary employer.

"It's okay, I know what happened to me. I know that a brain tumor took pieces of me, pieces of who I was, and that part of me is gone for good."

Jared sucked in a breath. "A brain tumor?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, man. I mean, a brain tumor. That's rough."

"It took some of me, but it left most of me."

"How do you know that?"

"I have memories, I do. Lots of them, but you know what? None of my memories ever show me doing anything mean or cruel to anybody. I know, intellectually, that I must have—in fact, that might be why I ended up like this, maybe that's why my family…" Jensen shook his head vigorously. "But I don't remember anything bad. How cool is that?"

"You think that you might've done something to someone and were punished by developing a brain tumor?"

Jensen hummed in agreement. "Maybe."

"That's crazy." Realizing what he said, Jared raised a hand to his eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

Jensen's happy laugh rang out. "It's okay, I am crazy. I _know_ I'm crazy. I was crazy even before this." Jensen tapped his head.

"Really?" Jared spoke into the palm of his hand.

"I was never like all the other kids, Trist, and I can prove it." He pulled Jared's hand away from his face.

Jared looked up. "You can prove it?"

"Yep. For example, how many little kids do you know buy an empty ant farm, fill it with sand, excavate tiny tunnels and caverns by hand using a little spoon taped to a couple of bendy straws and _then_ add the ants?"

"What?" Jared chuffed a laugh. "You?"

"When I was seven,″ Jensen proclaimed, proudly. ″How about this? Have you ever met a twelve year old who dry walled, installed glass block windows and blew R-7 insulation into his two story tree house?"

"Well, I have seen some fancy tree houses." Jared teased.

"Yeah, but I developed a working elevator with pulleys and counter weights to get up and down." 

"That's, that's _awesome_."

"In my third year of high school, I designed and built a series of windmills linked to energy cells on the school grounds that generated and stored enough electricity to heat the indoor swimming pool for a year." 

"You did that?"

Jensen sat tall and nodded once.

"Okay, you win."

"Yes. I do so very win." Jensen's eyes shone with excitement. "I'm glad I remember these things. In some respects, the brain tumor did me a favor. It took away all that foolishness I had worrying, worrying, _worrying_ about people thinking I was different. Now, I legitimately am different." He raised his hands, palms up. "No worries.″

He ducked his head and peered up at Jared. ″Plus, I must have done something right because here you are. Like the treasure at the end of a map."

Jared found it hard to speak. This man sitting next to him had just admitted that his brain was damaged, and yet he overflowed with pleasure and contentment. 

And joy.

Unbelievable.

Not only that, but Jensen, with his mad passions, believed that the day began and ended with _him_. Jensen thought that Jared kept his life steady. He was crazy, deluded, and gave Jared full credit for impossible things.

Even Jared, hardened from a life of selling himself for money, couldn't take advantage of him. 

"Jensen, man, I've got to tell you..."

"Anything, Tristan." Jensen scooted so close he was practically in Jared's lap. "I love hearing you say my name, my name, my _name_."

He cleared his throat and started again. "Jensen, I ..."

Jensen aimed his lopsided smile directly at Jared. "Yes?"

What should he say? Should he tell Jensen to cram all his insane dreams and leave Jared out of them? Tell Jensen that he's wrong about Jared and that the good doctor is a very disturbed and _misinformed_ individual? At this moment, should he get up, tell Jensen to fuck off and walk out the door for everybody's good?

He should, but he couldn't. 

Because at this one moment, with the sound of those ever moving, all-powerful waves crashing on the shore, and the red-orange sun setting on the Atlantic Ocean, this one eccentric soul, Jensen Ackles, fixed his eyes on Jared like he was the most precious thing in the world. And that made this one moment the best moment of Jared's whole godforsaken, sex selling, demeaning, abandoned life. 

God _damn_ Jensen Ackles.

~~*~~

Misha brought two cups of decaffeinated coffee into the living room. It was 10:30 p.m. and neither Jared nor Jensen was fully awake. Jensen's eyes were closing and Jared was yawning behind his hand. 

"Boss, can I make a suggestion?"

"Ummmm," Jensen replied with a small dip of his head.

He addressed Jared. "I would like to renegotiate the terms of our initial verbal contract. Instead of leaving tomorrow at 7:30 in the morning, I would like to extend your service to include all of tomorrow, Friday, and the week-end. You will be paid in full when you leave on Monday morning."

Misha asked Jensen. "Is that okay?"

Jensen's eyes snapped open. "No, that's not _okay_." His hands clutched the air in frenzied circles. "Not okay, _not_ okay."

Jared took Jensen's flailing hands into his own. "Misha, that's fine. Let's go to Monday, and see what happens then." He turned to Jensen. "Is _that_ okay?"

Jensen's eyes misted over. "Don't leave on Monday."

Jared swallowed. "We'll figure it out on Monday."

"Oh, thank God," Jensen said.

"Okay, good," Misha replied. "We'll renegotiate the terms after the weekend." He faced Jared. "Please stay until then." 

"I will. I'll stay until Monday."

~~*~~

Friday morning came with breakfast, a new set of clothes and a pair of plastic beach shoes. 

Misha cast an amused eye at Jared tearing into the pancakes, but gently lifting the lids of the soft boiled eggs to stir in the salt with a toothpick.

"My mother made soft boiled eggs when I was sick." Jared said, then sat straight up, looking frantically side to side wondering how he could've said something so personal out loud.

Misha was oblivious, having turned to the bacon strips sizzling in the skillet. "Not to brag, but my mother says that nobody makes soft boiled eggs like I do." He turned with tongs in hand. "However, she never gave me props for bacon, so eat at your own risk." 

Jensen appeared at the kitchen door scratching his bed head of hair. He looked bright, well rested and so gorgeously innocent that Jared ached. Jared couldn't remember an innocent moment in his entire life. 

"Good morning, family," Jensen said taking a deep breath of sea air from the open kitchen window.

Misha raised his head, smiling. "Eggs are soft boiled, pancakes are buttermilk, and coffee is Kona."

"Yes, dear baby Jesus, thank you for Kona coffee and Misha." Jensen shuffled to the coffee maker and poured a generous mug. 

"Do you want more coffee, Trist?" Jensen asked.

Jared looked at his empty coffee cup and nodded, smiling his thanks with food-puffy cheeks.

Jensen not only looked well rested, he sparkled. His eyes were equal, his smile was symmetrical and he looked at Jared like the rest of the world didn't exist.

"I'm glad you're still here," Jensen said, pouring coffee for Jared.

"I am, too."

"Did you sleep well? Are you doing okay?" Jensen snagged a piece of bacon off Jared's plate.

"I slept great. You're right about the sound of the waves. So peaceful, so mesmerizing."

Jared looked at Misha across the kitchen, then back at Jensen. "And pancakes and eggs? Well, let's say, it's been a long, long time since I've had any made just for me. So, yeah, I'm doing okay."

Misha raised his spatula. "You're welcome."

"It's a beautiful morning, Tristan. Do you feel like hearing the waves up close? I love to walk the beach in the morning, and now that it's summertime warm, maybe we'll see the dolphins. Sometimes pods of Bottle-Nosed dolphins come so close to shore you can count their dorsal fins. I love how they roll and dive. It's like they're swimming to music."

"I've seen them," Jared said. And he had. On those mornings when he was left at the side of the road near the beach, Jared didn't always go straight home. Sometimes he would walk off the night's work by watching the dolphins gracefully arch through the water. 

"I'd love to walk along the beach with you."

Jensen's eyes lit so bright that the kitchen lighting was ashamed. 

"But first," Misha handed Jensen a packet of pills.

"But first," Jensen repeated. He opened the packet and dumped the pills on his tongue, chasing them all down with Kona coffee. 

~~*~~

The June morning was warm, but Jensen wore a windbreaker over his long-sleeved pull over. He had rolled his pant legs up past his knees and walked barefoot. Jensen's stride was strong and confident.

Jared walked next to him, a polite distance away, but close enough to hear his voice above the surf. Jensen talked about lighthouses and breakwaters and sea glass; he pointed out the habitats of the small creatures that lived in the swash zone, the area where the waves break on the shore.

Jared was silently staring out at the water, and didn't notice that Jensen had stopped talking. 

"Trist?" Jensen touched his arm. "Are you all right?"

The concern on Jensen's face made him squeeze his eyes shut. "This is a dream. It has to be a dream."

"A dream?"

"For someone like me, someone who lives the way I do, your house, this beach—you. It's not right, not real."

"I'm real." Jensen looked confused. "I'm not right, but I am real."

"No, what I meant was—I know what I am and who I am, and I never once imagined that I could be walking along the beach with someone like you."

"Oh, because you were a hooker?"

Jared gave a surprised chuckle. "Yes, but I prefer the term 'gentleman of the evening.'"

Jensen smiled softly. "The sex for money stuff doesn't matter. I know what's inside here," He touched Jared's chest with his fingertips. "And I know you deserve good things."

"I _don't_ Jensen. I can't believe that."

"I know you can't. But I'm allowed to think anything I want because I'm crazy. You shouldn't contradict a crazy person. It's not safe, and you won't win."

"Especially if he's the one paying my salary." Jared grinned.

"You'll see, Trist. You _will_ see. You are important, you are truthful and so very _much_ worth it. I know it's true, even though I'm not firing on all eight cylinders," Jensen snickered at his own euphemism. "But don't worry, I'm not crazy like dangerous. I'm crazy like smart. I'm _smart_ crazy."

"Crazy like an insane fox." Jared confirmed.

"Sanity's overrated anyway." Jensen's eyes crinkled at the corners as he grinned up at Jared. "I do suffer from some sort of insanity, I always have. But too much sanity can be madness." He cocked his head to the side. "I read that somewhere. Cervantes, I think."

"People think it's Cervantes, but it was really Dale Wasserman." Jared kicked a seashell into the water. "He wrote _Man of La Mancha_."

Jensen scrutinized Jared with a little, awed smile. "Yes. It was Peter O'Toole in _Man of La Mancha_. 1972." He took three quick steps ahead of Jared, turned around, raised his right hand to the sky and pronounced, "To surrender dreams—this may be madness; to seek treasure where there is only trash. Too much sanity may be madness. But maddest of all, to see life as it is, and _not_ as it should be." 

The sun formed a halo around Jensen's hair, and the sheen on his sweaty cheeks made him shine. Jensen's eyes sparkled as the warm sea breeze ruffled his windbreaker's collar. Jared's breath caught in his throat. Jensen was beautiful. He was beautiful, brilliant, innocent and damaged. Jared wanted to say something profound to this man whose brains were scrambled, but whose misguided heart was bigger than the entire planet. 

"Don't quit your day job."

Jensen raised both arms and took a deep, dramatic bow.

Jared took the three steps to catch up with him, and they both continued walking along the beach. A thought was nagging at him. He knew it was rude to ask, but Jensen _had_ said that he knew he was different. 

"Uh, Jensen?"

"Hmm?"

"You said you knew you were crazy before they discovered the tumor. Is that true?" 

Jensen stared at Jared, blinked a couple of times and then laughed until he almost fell down. "Of _course_ I knew I was crazy. Crazy people know they're crazy, the same way old people know they're old, and bald guys know they have no hair." He looked askance at Jared and then reached up petted Jared's long, brown hair.

Then he touched his own head. "Thank God, I still have _my_ hair. My hair covers the scars left by the incisions, see?" Jensen parted his hair along the zipper scar bisecting the top of his head. One part of the surgical scar wrapped around the right side almost to his ear, the other ran along the base. "Misha keeps my hair done right so you can barely see them." 

"Wow," Jared gasped. It looked like they opened up his entire skull to dig out the diseased tissue. "That was a massive surgery."

"It was,″ Jensen agreed. ″The tumor was as big as a baseball. A baseball with tentacles. I had to have radiation after. That sucked." 

"You're lucky to be alive. I mean, I'm sorry," Jared stammered. ″I'm sorry that happened to you."

″It's okay,″ Jensen said. ″You're here, and I'm here. So it's okay." 

They shared a silent look. 

"So, to answer your question, yes. Yes, I was always crazy." Jensen grinned deviously. "But I prefer the term— _'eccentric genius_.'"

Jensen giggled and Jared said, solemnly, "Duly noted."

Jensen walked up to the shoreline and stood waiting for the waves to hit his feet, wiggling his toes in the water and sinking into the sand as the waves receded. "Do you know what I did for a living? What I did before this?" He ran a finger across the top of his head.

Jared stepped into the water next to him, brushed Jensen's hair back in place and held out his hand. "No, what did you do?"

Jensen happily took hold of Jared's hand. "I designed devices that only a crazy person—only an _eccentric genius_ —could. I formed Sensor Activated and Sensor Deployed Devices, LLC. I founded my own company for my own wonderful inventions: _SAaSD Devices_. I call them Sassys."

Jared had heard of them. Everybody had heard of them. " _You_ created _SAaSD Devices_?"

"How do you think I could afford this house by the water?" Jensen laughed. "Sassy 3179 was my first big success. The first system was deployed in Massachusetts, and when she proved to be a hit, six other states invested in her."

"They're in other countries now, too, aren't they?" Jared knew about this system to avoid highway wash outs. 

" _Three_ other countries. Another one, my Sassy 2005, is pretty America centered, though. Tornado alley was a great marketplace for her," Jensen continued proudly. ″My favorite, though, is Sassy 20."

"Wait." Jared held up his hand. "You only needed twenty prototypes to perfect the home fire protection system?" 

Jensen snorted. "Of course not. The numbers don't mean anything to anybody but me." Jensen tipped his head, looking up at Jared. "That proves my point, though. I design and _name_ my devices. Only an insane person would do that, but aren't they magnificent?"

"Yes," Jared had to agree. "They _are_ magnificent." 

Jensen swung their clasped hands up and down as they walked. "I used my _eccentricities_ to benefit others before, and now, I use them to benefit me." 

He squeezed Jared's hand then released it. "I've been given a second chance, so I have to do it right this time. I've got to fix the wrongs, but also reach for the stars. Every single one of them—like you, Trist. I'm going to be better than anyone expected, because even though a brain tumor destroyed parts of my brain, I survived it and I'm here, I'm here, I'm _here_. I may be crazy, but I'm still inventing ways of helping the world. Because," Jensen's eyes twinkled, "with great crazy comes great responsibility."

Jared laughed and Jensen blushed. 

Jared hesitated and bit his bottom lip. "It's not all fun and games, though. I mean, I, ah, had to help carry you to the car the other day."

Jensen sobered. "I know that, too."

Jared waited, watching Jensen process his response. 

"I remember a lot of things, but I forget a lot of things, too. Misha," Jensen paused, "Um, Misha has to follow after me making sure I don't leave the doors open, the stove on, the water running—things like that. That's why he won't let me cook or get a dog. We don't even own an iron." Jensen's voice got softer. "I have to take lots of medications, and, well, Misha helps me with that, too." 

He grinned sadly at Jared. "I can't drive any of my cars for a whole bunch of reasons. I get bad headaches and sometimes I have seizures. Not too often, though. It's more common that I go through phases where the words don't come."

"Words? What words?"

"Words for things. Like, I'm looking at the refrigerator and, of course, I know what a refrigerator is, what it does, what it's used for, and even how it works, but I can't find the word, 'refrigerator.' I can't find any word that _means_ refrigerator. So, either I stop talking or describe the thing in the kitchen that keeps food cold by use of a thermally insulated compartment and is currently housing the milk."

"Wow." Jared was stunned.

"It's called transient aphasia."

"You can remember the words 'transient aphasia' but you can't remember the word 'refrigerator?'" Jared asked.

"Sometimes." 

"I'd _always_ know a refrigerator." Jared joked.

Jensen brightened. "Thermally insulated compartment, you mean." 

"Yes, a refrigerator," Jared said, smiling bigger.

Jensen took Jared's hand again, and held it tightly, threading their fingers together. "Before—I was crazy and smart but also stupid. Plain stupid."

"I doubt that." 

"It's true." Jensen shifted closer. "I didn't admit to anyone that I liked men, you know, like _that_." He looked at their entwined fingers. "I mean…like this," he placed a small kiss on Jared's knuckles.

"I was afraid to admit that I was gay, even to myself, so I dated women. Lots of women, hoping that if I loved one of them enough, or she wanted me enough, I could make myself want her. I was stupid—trying to be like I wasn't supposed to be. Like I was defying God's plan." 

Jensen scratched his head. "Huh. Maybe _that's_ why I got the brain tumor. Well, the bottom line is that He made me just fine. He made me this way so I could love you."

"Jensen, God didn't give you a brain tumor because you were scared of being gay, and I'm not part of God's plan for you."

"You _so very_ are, Jared Tristan."

Jared was surprised. "You know my first name is really Jared, then?"

Jensen's cheeks flushed pink. "Yes, but Tristan is one of your names, right? One of your _real_ names."

"Yes, it is."

Jensen looked clearly into Jared's eyes. "I want to make you happy. Give something back to you. I want to care for you. Keeping you safe and happy is a part of who I am now. You make this okay." Jensen tapped his head. 

"No, man, that's messed up," Jared was caught off guard. "You are _way_ off the mark when it comes to me."

"No," Jensen said. "I'm right. You're special. You're _amazing_."

"You don't know how much that hurts." Jared tore his hand away from Jensen's. "My name is Jared. I'm a prostitute. You know what that means, right? It means that I'll fuck anybody who pays me."

"But now you won't have to anymore."

"Stop," Jared raised his voice " _Listen_ to me, Jensen."

Jensen stood stone-faced. 

"Listen to me, please," he said softer. "I'm not this wonderful person. My mother abandoned me at a McDonalds when I was five. She said she had to go to the 'little girl's room' and told me to wait. After seven hours of watching the shifts change, by the time they noticed me, I was too hungry, too dirty, and too tired to even cry. My mother left me there. My own _mother_. So, I _can't_ be that wonderful."

Jared angrily brushed away the unexpected tears. "I have a vague recollection of my mother saying that my father was in the service. I don't know whether he was military, police, or maybe it was a lie. But this person—me," Jared smacked his chest, "Is only good for one thing. And believe me, I'm very good at fucking—like mother, like son."

"I'm so sorry." Jensen had gone quiet. "But it doesn't matter who you were _before_. I was someone else Before, too."

"I met you _sixteen hours_ ago."

"I know, isn't that great? That it doesn't matter who you were or what you did _seventeen_ hours ago? We're here, together, now. _You_ are with _me_." Jensen focused on Jared, "I'm going to show you that _I_ am worthy of _you_ , and I promise _I_ will not leave you in a fast food restaurant or _any_ restaurant."

Jared paused, chuckling sadly. "You're a bastard, Ackles. I can hold my own against any sadistic john, or money-sucking pimp, but you're the worst. I have no defense against you."

"Oh, Tristan, I don't want you to."

"Now I _can't_ go back to the streets thinking that I don't matter. That was the only way I could sell myself. But now I matter to you, goddammit. Your 'crazy' made me matter and your crazy thinks I'm wonderful. That may be the cruelest thing anyone has ever done to me."

Jensen stood close and touched Jared's face. "Sometimes doing the right thing, the true thing is all that matters. Sometimes it's all there is, because without that one true thing, we don't have a reason. Tristan, you're my reason. I don't know why. I don't care why. _You_ are my one true thing."

~~*~~  
Part Two  
~~*~~

Jared heard voices coming from the study. Jensen's went up with excitement while Misha's was soft and mellow.

Jared pressed his ear to the hardwood door causing it to open a couple of inches, allowing him to hear their discussion.

"Earth energy, Misha. The Earth is a molten _heater_. The center of the earth is four _thousand_ degrees and that's in _Celsius_. Celsius degrees are hotter that Fahrenheit degrees." 

Jared could imagine Jensen's hands waving in the air as he spoke. "I know that I can tap into the Earth's natural heat to run steam turbines using plain seawater for unlimited energy. Then we condense the steam and have _fresh_ water. Another world problem solved. How cool is that?"

Misha mumbled something too soft to hear.

Jensen laughed high and loud. "But that's the beauty of the Earth, Mish. The _contradictions_ , because as we start from the top layer of the earth's crust and go down, first it gets cooler. Farmers have known that for centuries and dug root cellars. I can harness the chill of the Earth and make it so that houses will have a free and endless supply of cool air for the hot, summer months. Heating and cooling, all from one, unlimited source. The Earth. And not just one family at a time, one _planet_ at a time."

Jared heard Misha say, "take another bite," and "don't be disappointed," and "what do they know?" 

Jensen sounded irrational. Were all of his inventions wrought from his brain's well-intentioned delusions? 

Jared opened the door wide enough to see inside. Misha saw Jared, but continued addressing Jensen.

"You know the world isn't ready for you, don't you, Jen?"

"I want to make it ready because _I_ am ready." Jensen stood bright and happy with his arms outstretched.

"Then maybe I should have said that this world isn't _big enough_ for you."

"Doesn't matter because ready or not, here I come! It's _magnificent_ , Misha. I have so much and I'm so close. You. You get it, you get _me_. You're my friend, my friend, my _friend_." 

Jensen stopped and took a breath. "And, of course, there's Tristan. My God, Misha, can you believe it? Can you believe he's really here? And you said it might never happen. You said that Tristan was a side effect of the surgery. You _have_ seen him, right?" Jensen's smile dimmed a notch, but only a notch.

"Of course I've seen him. He's awfully hard to miss—all six foot four of him bunking down in the guest bedroom."

"It was worth it, you know. He made it all worth it."

"How do you mean?"

"Before, I was, I was...whi...lim,″ Jensen smacked his head once. ″Lonesome. I was lonesome because I was afraid of people finding out about me liking guys. You were there and you helped, but now that Tristan's here, life is as it should be. Everything is all right. Can't you feel it?" 

Jensen looked so hopeful. "I know I can feel it, and the best news is that I still have enough brains left to save people." Jensen's words began slurring together.

"Okay, time for bed."

"I want to find Tristan and say good night." Jensen yawned and his left eye closed involuntarily, finally opening half way.

"I'll tell him for you." Misha stood Jensen up and aimed his tired friend toward the door.

"You know I love you, right Misha?"

"You know I love you, too."

Jared's heart did an unexpected nose dive.

"But just a little, because the rest is for Tristan," Jensen sighed. "The rest is for him."

"He's a lucky bastard." 

Yeah, Jared thought. The real Tristan—the one created in Jensen's head— was a real lucky bastard.

~~*~~

Jared was on the deck outside the guest bedroom when he heard a soft knocking on the bedroom door.

"Can I come in?" Misha called.

Jared raised his voice. "It's your house." 

"That's what I came to talk to you about." Misha walked out on the deck and handed Jared a tray with sandwiches, chips and salsa, and two bottles of spring water.

"You can eat anything, any time you want, you know," Misha said. "Jensen likes breakfast, but after that, he doesn't eat much all at one sitting, so I give him snacks throughout the day. I don't know if you're hungry, so here."

"Thanks," Jared said, cautiously taking the tray. 

"We can go inside to talk if you want, the waves are really noisy. The surf's up because an offshore storm's churning the water."

"Are you both ocean geeks?" Jared raised his feet up onto the lounge chair balancing his food.

"Yes." Misha sat on the deck railing. "We're both ocean geeks." 

Jared felt he should apologize for something, but decided that he was too hungry. Misha was right. Jensen hadn't eaten lunch or dinner, so Jared hadn't eaten. Even though hunger wasn't an unfamiliar sensation, he still didn't like it. 

"So, is this where I get my walking papers, or do _you_ want a little somethin' first?" Jared leered. 

"Why do you talk like a jackass? You're not on the street now—you're in a home that welcomes you."

Jared sighed. "Everything you said after jackass might as well have been Greek." He took a big bite of the sandwich and screwed off the top of the water bottle. It was all he could do to stifle a moan when the flavor of roast turkey, London broil and sweet peppers burst in his mouth. The bread was crusty and soft and it almost brought tears to his eyes.

"My mother says that I make a hell of a sandwich, too." Misha said. "The other one's prosciutto and Genoa salami with provolone, black olives, olive oil and vinegar."

Jared swallowed. "What do you want from me? What does the mad scientist want from me?" 

Misha laughed and dipped a tortilla chip in salsa. "Mad scientist. I like that."

"Well, what do you call him?" Jared glanced wistfully at the crumbs on his plate and reached for the second sandwich. 

"He's half absent-minded professor," Misha said. "You're most familiar with that part of him."

Jared um hmmed, licking his fingers.

"His other half's a superhero. He's the gutsiest man I've ever met, because he's not afraid of taking wild chances on wild ideas. He's dedicated his life to saving the world, one family, one _person_ , at a time. His inventions save lives."

"A geek superhero?" Jared thought he really shouldn't talk with his mouth full.

"Every night, Jared, even now, he plots, designs, and fabricates new devices. Even with his jumbled up brain, he works to save the world. Every single night."

"How do I fit into all of this?" Jared was genuinely curious.

"His drive to keep people safe now includes you."

"Oh, come on." Jared said. "He doesn't even know me."

"Listen, before the brain surgery, when he was, who he was, he was intense, and passionate. Now, he's still passionate, but with more, uh, whimsy. He's _happier_ now. Jensen never let himself have a real, honest relationship, although he always wanted one, so now, his lack of inhibition is allowing him."

"Allowing him to what?"

"Allowing him to indulge in all the cheesy romantic notions that come with finding "The One." That's who he thinks you are, Jared."

"He's crazy."

″Yes.″ Misha chuckled. "That he is." 

"He's crazy and you're enabling him. That's not helping him."

"You're wrong," Misha said. "I'm the _only_ one helping him."

"You're very close, the two of you?"

"I love him," Misha replied, simply.

Jared was surprised by emotion those words provoked. "Does Jensen feel the same way about you? Are you two together?

"Yes, he feels the same way, and no, we're not." Misha smiled broadly. "It's complicated, but it's simple. It's simple, because even if I did swing that way, we're not like that. Plus, ever since the surgery, he's been waiting for Tristan. Every time I asked him what Tristan looked like, Jensen would describe somebody different, but the one thing that never changed was your name."

"And it's complicated?" 

"I can't leave him. I can't find a home without him. He needs me to take care of him, and I need him to take care of. Neither one of us is very well adjusted. We never have been." Misha exhaled. "But I'm proud to be his assistant. I'm proud of him and his accomplishments. I'm proud to be the one taking care of him and I'm extremely proud to be his friend."

"That doesn't sound complicated." Jared said.

"I guess it's not, then." Misha agreed.

"But it does sound, uh, unusual." Jared chuckled. "Hey, dating must be kind of tough for you, huh?"

Misha laughed. "Not as tough as you think. You see the house I live in, don't you?" He winked and said, "Chick magnet."

Jared smirked and leaned back, relaxing in the warm sea air as evening descended. Misha sat down in one the deck chairs and propped his feet up on the railing.

"Does he have any family? I mean, other than you?" Jared asked, unscrewing his second bottle of water.

Misha's jaw clenched, a dark expression clouding his eyes. "Yes, he has family. Funny, though, do you see any of them around here, helping him out, keeping him company, or even taking time to visit?"

"I haven't really been here that long."

"It doesn't matter, you _won't_ see them. After the surgery, they should have understood that things were different. _Jensen_ was different…" Misha halted mid-sentence. "He tried to fix it. They should have tried harder. So, no, you won't see them. Not until one of them needs something."

"Then what happens?"

"He gives it to them."

The rolling waves were almost on top of each other with barely a lull between one crash and the next. 

Misha took in a deep breath. "Jared, there are a couple of things you need to know. Nothing bad. Well, nothing terribly bad."

Jared looked away from the surf. "Like what?"

"Well, like sometimes Jensen forgets words, names, days of the week, and goes off on a tangent in the middle of a conversation. Things like that."

"He told me he suffers from transient aphasia. He also said he takes medications and that you are in charge of those. You also lock the doors, and make sure everything's off so the house doesn't burn down in the middle of the night."

Misha chuckled. "Yeah. That only happened once, though. And it was only a small kitchen fire." 

Misha's smile fell and got serious. "Sometimes he has trouble walking and reading, although that's getting better, but, occasionally, he has seizures. Despite all the drugs, he still has breakthrough seizures."

Jared now knew that Jensen was having a breakthrough seizure when they first met. "Anything I need to know about them?"

"No, not really. They're not dangerous. They don't cause any more brain damage or anything, but they're unpredictable. You may not even know he's having one. Sometimes he stops talking and stares for a few seconds, other times," Misha trailed off.

"Other times, what?"

"Just know that if he does go into a full blown tonic-clonic grand mal seizure—dropping to the ground and jerking—there's nothing you can do but ride it out with him. Make sure there's nothing he can thrash into and stay with him until it stops." Misha paused. "Oh, and time them. They usually last from a few seconds to a few minutes. If it doesn't end before ten minutes, then it's a problem and he'll need a different medication to get them to stop. That also has only happened once."

"Okay, move the breakables and watch the time."

"Right." Then Misha said, sternly, "And do _not_ put anything into his mouth to keep him from biting off his tongue. That can't happen and could hurt him." 

Jared raised his eyes. "You're a really good friend."

"Yes. I am."

"Can I ask you something?" 

"Yes, well, maybe." Misha sank down deeper into the cushions on the chaise.

"Why _Tristan_?" 

"I know, right?" Surprisingly, Misha's cheeks blushed so bright that Jared could see it in the dim evening light. "I've asked him that question a lot, 'Why Tristan?' Jensen says he doesn't know, but I think I figured it out. Before, when he was, well, Before." 

Jared held his breath and waited.

Misha paused, slowly inhaling. "See, there's this jewelry store franchise called "Tristan—The Emporium of Jewelry" and their main slogan is, _Give the One You Love Something From Tristan_. Jensen used to kid about it by sighing dramatically and saying things like, 'Ah, but who gives _you_ love, Tristan?' and 'Tristan gives his love to all, but takes none for himself.' It was a running joke. Now, it's not so funny."

Jared sat up, blinking at Misha. ″The hell?″

"He thinks you're _that_ Tristan, Jared. The one giving your love away without any returned. One of his quests is to right that wrong."

"You're kidding."

"Not kidding."

"He's always been crazy, and he's _still_ crazy." Jared huffed.

"Fantastically, batshit crazy. Which brings me to the purpose of this meeting." For the first time during the conversation, Misha looked uncomfortable.

Jared brushed the crumbs off his shirt and straightened his shorts to look as presentable as possible.

Misha stood. "I'm going to honest with you. This is new to me. I've never found The One before, and neither has Jensen. Jared, I'm not going to lie—I don't know how long he's going to believe you are his Tristan."

Jared stood and tried to look casual. "Whatever."

Misha sighed. "I want to hire you as Dr. Ackles', uh, bodyguard, chauffeur, personal attaché, henchman, or whatever you want to call yourself."

"His boy toy? That do it for you?"

"Jackass," Misha huffed. "Yes, I want to hire you for Jensen. I don't know for how long, and the terms of your employment will be stated as—doing whatever Jensen wants you to do for as long as he wants you to do them. I don't care what it is, as long as you don't hurt him, or let him hurt himself. When Jensen says it's time for you to go, your contract will be terminated. You, of course, may terminate the contract at any time. You will be housed, fed, clothed, loved and paid your hourly wage until one of you decides it's time to leave." 

"You're a real sweet talker of a negotiator."

"Please, Jared, take the deal. You get to walk out any time you want."

"Unless he kicks me out, first."

"That's right, but _he's_ the one to kick you out. Not me, not the neighbors, not the cops—him." Misha shrugged one shoulder. "What have you got to lose? How bad can it be to get off the street for a while?"

"Looks like this means a lot to you."

" _He_ means a lot to me, and you mean a lot to him, at least for now. I'll be around to answer any questions if you have them, and I'll still be taking care of his medications and personal needs."

Jared never once had a vacation. It might be fun. So _what_ if Jensen got tired of him after a few days? Maybe he could get Misha to throw in a couple more sets of clothes. 

"Sure, you're right. How bad could it be? I'm used to doing what I'm told. Besides, personal attaché has a nice ring to it, even though you're using the term incorrectly since Jensen's not a diplomat." Jared stopped. 

Misha raised an eyebrow.

"I read a lot," Jared said, waving away his last statement. "Never mind, I'm in."

"Okay. Good. That's good." Misha's discomfort returned. Jared guessed Misha wasn't used to negotiating in flesh. After all, whatever services Jensen wanted, he'd just hired Jared to fill the order.

Misha shifted foot to foot. "So, we're good here?"

"Yeah, we're good." 

Misha held out his hand and Jared shook it, completing the transaction. "One thing, though. You said that I was one of Jensen's _quests_. What does that mean, exactly?" 

A grin played at Misha's lips. "You need to ask him. You'll have to be ready for his answers, though, because if you are, he'll be happy to tell you all about his wide variety of crusades." 

"I'm ready for anything."

"So you say. Don't be surprised if he asks you to take him out to the farm." Misha paused. "I'd really try to talk him out of that if I were you."

 

~~*~~

 

"So, Jensen. What are your quests in life?" Jared filled his and Jensen's coffee cups. 

"What?" Jensen laughed, after swallowing a mouthful of pancakes. Blueberry this time.

"Misha said to ask you about your quests. He wouldn't tell me." 

"Misha wouldn't tell you?" Jensen was delighted. 

Now that Jared thought about it, Misha was right. Jensen always seemed happy. 

"You asked him and he wouldn't tell you?"

"He said to ask you." Jared placed Jensen's coffee in front of him.

"Misha, Misha, _Misha_ ," Jensen said, shaking his head, smiling broadly. 

Jared tipped his head back and laughed.

Jensen lit up like a Roman candle. "You are so beautiful. Your smile, your eyes. My _God_ , your _eyes_."

Jared was caught by surprise by Jensen's praise. "Um, thanks."

″You're welcome.″

"So, then, tell me about your missions. What do you seek in life?" He sat across from Jensen, and sipped his coffee.

"You ask hard questions." Jensen's gave Jared a furtive, careful look, but his eyes shone with mirth.

"No hard questions," Jared said, reassuringly. "I only want to know what makes you tick."

"Oh, the ticking. I take a licking and keep on ticking. Timex." Jensen sat up happily. "I'm like Timex." 

"Just like Timex," Jared agreed. Apparently, it was the right thing to say, because Jensen began talking.

"I remember my life from Before. That's what we call it, Misha and me. My life Before, or my time Before.″

Jared understood. He had a life Before, too, but it was almost too long ago to remember.

Jensen continued, ″I already told you that I don't remember all of it but I remember the character assassins, the liars, and the privileged people thinking that they must have done something great in God's eyes to be oh, so lucky, so smart, and so rich.″ He looked to the sky.

"What I really remember, though, are the regular, hard-working families who fell on hard times with no help, no relatives to fall back on, and sometimes, Tristan, they lost everything. Everything. Their homes, their families, and sometimes even their lives. That's not fair. It's _never_ fair for good people to have that happen to them."

Jared bristled with the memories of his own childhood.

As if reading Jared's thoughts he said, "You lost your home, you lost your family." He leaned in as Jared turned away. "That should _never_ have happened to you. You were a young, innocent boy. I can't begin to understand what you went through or how you got to where you had to sell sex for money, but I know it couldn't have been fair. And I'm so, so sorry I wasn't able to help you then."

Jared believed him. Jensen was deranged, but Jared knew that Jensen believed every word he was saying.

"Misha says I'm naïve. Sometimes, when he gets mad at me he says I'm like a child. I ignore him and say that I've got to do good in the world. I've seen life as it is, and not as it should be. Like Don Quixote. I've seen how the non-crazy people create madness in the world. I wonder sometimes…" Jensen went silent, his eyes filling with fear.

"What, Jensen? What?"

"I wonder if I was like them." Jensen turned his horrified eyes to Jared. "Could I have been like them?" 

"No, you couldn't, because you said that you were always crazy." Jared took Jensen's hands in his. ″I believe that."

"Yeah," Jensen grinned and sniffed, "Thank God for the eternally crazy part of me. There is that." 

"There is that," Jared squeezed his hands warmly.

"I hope it's true. I pray to God it's true. Please, God, make it so that I always was, and am now and forever nuts." 

~~*~~

Jared felt a soft, but insistent shoulder shake.

"Tristan, wake up. Come _on_ , wake up."

"What?" Jared opened his eyes and saw Jensen staring down on him. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"We need to go and not tell Misha." Jensen was dressed all in black. Black jeans, black boots, black gloves, and a black, long sleeved turtle necked sweater. In July.

"Why are you wearing that?" Jared ran the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead.

"No time to talk. We've got to go _now_." 

"Go? Go where?"

"To the farm, of course. Get dressed. We've got to be stealthy quiet. Dress in black. Hurry, Tristan, _hurry_."

"We can't go to the farm." Jared remembered Misha's warning.

"Yes, yes we can. Misha is gone. We _can_ go now."

It took a moment for Jared to register that last statement. "Misha is gone?"

"Beach bunny. Misha is out fucking a beach girl, but he never stays all night. Time to go while he's busy. Time to go _now_."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Jared was floundering. God, why didn't Misha tell him about this farm shit. "I don't know what you want me to do."

"I know, I know, I _know_." Jensen took a deep breath. "We have to go save where there are cows, no, plants...planting with tractors, Tristan. Crops and plow?"

Jensen scratched at the scar on his head and then began slapping his forehead. 

"Stop it, Jensen, don't do that." Jared grabbed his wrist.

" _Fields_." Jensen hissed. "We have to go out to the fields. I wanted to go to the farm, but Misha said no, he always said no, and anyway I had to find _you_. Well, here you are, and I don't hear Misha telling me no."

"Misha isn't here."

"That's why we need to go _now_. I can't drive. You have to drive. I got a fast car." 

"Why the farm? What's there?"

"You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere. Maybe we make a deal. Maybe together we can get somewhere… Tracy Chapman. Fast car."

"I need to call Misha."

" _No_. No Misha. I won't sing again. Sorry. Sorry, sorry."

"Jensen."

"It's evil, Tristan. Not Tracy Chapman, but I _need_ to go. Get it. Out. There are very bad things. I've been watching. There are armies of them rolling across the land. Spilling their poison on the Earth. The _Earth_." Jensen's hands shook uncontrollably. "Gotta stop them doing that."

"Can't we talk about this first?"

"Get one of the cars," Jensen threw a dark blue T shirt and a pair of black and yellow striped board shorts at Jared. "Get dressed, then get the BMW from the, out of the, little house. The little house attached to my big house and I'll show you. I'll show you. Please." 

"Okay, okay." Jared dressed quickly.

Jensen handed Jared the keys, grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the bedroom door. " _Hurry_."

Jared had no choice. He was being paid to keep Jensen happy.

~~*~~

"See? See that?" Jensen's words were harsh and forced. "You can see what it's doing, right? It's wrong. Bad. Wrong."

"No, it's not Jensen," Jared sighed. "It's watering the crops. That's all. It's just a big machine, moving slowly around the farmland, watering it."

"You're so trusting." Jensen's hands unconsciously kneaded his scalp. "So good."

"Please. Please stop it."

"You are good," Jensen looked out the passenger's side window, "but _that_ is wrong. That is causing bad, bad things to happen. Watch me, Trist. Watch me. You asked about my missions. Watch me now."

Jensen yanked the door open and jumped out of the car. Jared got out of the driver's seat, pulled out his cell phone and texted Misha with a 911: _you gotta come now at a farm on logtown rd off rt 50._

  


Jensen leaned into the driver's side and popped open the trunk. He ran behind the car and rummaged around before dashing into the cropland.

_Ok I no where it is_ Misha's text replied. _dont let him do anything!_

Jared slammed the trunk closed, then jogged to catch up. Jensen approached one of the wheeled support structures of the land irrigation system. This was a massive piece of machinery. There were looming arms with hose attachments spaced at regular intervals, moving slowly every few minutes, spraying water to irrigate the crops. It was a center pivot sprinkler system. Eerie, but harmless.

 

Jensen crept up behind one of the spraying units and pulled a switchblade from his back pocket. He pushed the button and let loose the blade. 

The night was hot and dry. Sweat dripped down Jensen's face as he raised his head to the stars. After a silent moment, he approached one of the many hoses supplying water to the sprinkler heads and began sawing away at it. 

"Wait!" Jared rushed up to him, "You can't use that, it's illegal. Don't cut the water lines, Jen, you'll get into trouble." 

"I love it when you call me, Jen." Jensen paused, his eyes shining in the moonlight. "It's okay, Trist, I know what I'm doing. Is it okay that I call you Trist?"

Jared wondered if he should mention that Jensen has been calling him that since the moment they met. Instead he said, "Stop, man, please. I don't know what you're thinking, but this is an irrigation system, that's all. Please, let's go back.″

There was a clicking sound, and several seconds later, motion sensor lights lit the fields. Outdoor lights came on in the farmhouse several acres away. 

″Jensen, we've got to go. The farmers know we're here and they're going to call the cops.″ 

Jared had lived on the Eastern Shore his entire life, and knew that thieves scavenged these big irrigation units for copper wire. It was a huge and expensive problem for farmers so security for these irrigators was high. Without question, the law would be on the scene any minute.

″Jensen, Misha is waiting for us. I want to go back and, and," Jared balled his hands into fists. "Listen to the waves?"

"I love the waves, love listening to the waves with you." Jensen sliced away at one of the hoses as he spoke.

"Okay, let's go home and do that then." Jared reached for Jensen's wrist holding the knife, but Jensen quickly stepped back.

"Don't you see? This isn't a natural thing. This isn't the Earth taking care of her soil, this isn't the sky raining down on the seedlings, this isn't the perpetual motion of the waves, this is a monster, trampling the earth, stomping the life out of everything trying to grow. 

"I promised, Trist, I promised. I _vowed_ that if I ever got better, if I was able to see, walk, and string two words together, that I would do good. _Everything_ would be for good. Everything I do from now until I die will be for the better. You, me, Misha, and the little leaves trying to peek their way above the soil."

Shit. Shit. Shit. Think. Think. Think. Jared's mind was revved and roaring. 

"Jensen. Ah, these plants here,″ he whirled around, anxiously. ″Are these the seedlings you're talking about?"

"They need to be protected. Like the flowers that bloom at night. Can't you smell them in the sweet air around us, Trist? It smells like heaven. It smells like life." Jensen took a deep, happy inhale through his nose, and then changed the angle of the blade as he wasn't making any headway on cutting the hose. 

Jared sniffed the air. Damp manure was a far whiff from smelling like heaven.

"Jensen, stop," Jared raised his hands. "Please, you've got to stop doing this.″ 

He ran his hands along Jensen's shoulders from behind. "Jen," he said in a calm voice. "You've got to let the monsters do their work, because the seedlings you're trying to save must be destroyed because, because they are, um, _tobacco_ plants."

"What?" Jensen stopped stabbing the water hose.

"Tobacco, Dr. Ackles. One of the leading causes of death in the country, hell, man, in the whole _world_. I read that it's the cause of over five million deaths a year. My, my, my _mother_ died from smoking cigarettes."

Jensen's face turned into a mask of sorrow. "Your mother? She died?" Jensen's voice faltered. "She left you and then she died. Oh, _Trist_."

Now it was Jared's turn to pause. "Yeah, Jen, my mother died." Jared composed himself and the lie he was about to tell. "I found out that she died from lung cancer from smoking. It's a terrible way to go." For all he knew about his mother, it could be true, who knew? 

Jared pointed dramatically to the irrigator, watering the soy field they were standing in. "Let the monster machinery do its work and _kill_ the tobacco seedlings so that nobody else's mom dies. Please, Jensen." Jared paused for effect. ″Please.″

Jensen stood motionless. "I want to do what you're asking, except that they look like soy plants to me. But I'll..." Jensen's eyelids began fluttering.

"Jensen?" Jared took the knife and folded it. "What's wrong?"

Across the field, a flashing police cruiser snaked its way up the long, gravel driveway to the front of the farmhouse.

"I can't..." Jensen looked desperately at Jared, his eyes blinking uncontrollably. His breathing was erratic and his hands were twitching.

Jared grabbed Jensen around the waist and pulled him far away from the base of the watering machine. Jensen fell in a heap on the wet soil with Jared leaning over him. 

Large muscle spasms overtook Jensen's body and he became rigid, yet Jensen's eyes still zeroed in on Jared's. 

"Hey, hey, man," Jared said. "Hang in there okay? Misha's coming to get us. You hear me? You _hear_ me?"

Jensen's mouth dropped open and his eyes glazed over. His spine bowed and he began convulsing from head to foot. 

"Aww, Jen." Jared backed away and dropped to the ground beside the seizing would-be hero.

Soft "Uh, uh, uh,"s burbled from Jensen's drooling lips until the spasms became too severe and his jaws clenched tight. Remembering what Misha told him, Jared moved a careful distance away and started timing. 

Heavy duty flashlight beams were weaving through the rows of soy plants and along the base of another large irrigating machine, but Jared was alerted by the headlights on the rural road behind him. A large SUV was cruising slowly. Jared pulled out his phone and texted: _stop i c u hurry_

Almost as soon as the text was sent, the Lexus pulled off to the side of the road. Jared stood waving his arms wildly. Looking from the road, to his watch, to Jensen, to the approaching flashlights, Jared's head and arms were spinning. While Jared was counting past minute seven of the seizure, Misha ran up to them. 

"What?" Looking down at Jensen's jerking body, he looked back at Jared. "How long?"

"Seven minutes thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven…" 

Jensen's spasms continued to wrack his body until, finally, the hitching slowed and his breathing evened out. 

"Eight minutes, nine seconds." Jared announced, looking south where flashlight beams bobbed up and down as a second set of flashers pulled up to the farmhouse. ″We gotta get out of here _now_.″

"Good thing my date had a rented condo in West Ocean City." Misha got Jensen into a sitting position. "If it had gone on any longer, I would have said to take him to the hospital, it's only a few minutes' drive from here."

Jared knelt in the wet dirt, stroked Jensen's hair away from his eyes and said, "Hey, man, are you back? You with me? We have to go."

"Yeah," Jensen slurred. "I'm back. I think I'm back."

"Hey, Jen," Misha said, looking him over from head to foot before fluffing out a blanket he'd brought. "That was a long one." 

"It was?" Jensen's eyes flew open before falling half-mast. "Oh, God. I didn't, did I Misha?" His pale skin flushed as he began shivering under the wool turtleneck. "Please tell me I didn't." He glanced at Jared.

"No, Jensen. You're fine." Misha quickly tucked the blanket around him. He turned to Jared. "Where are you parked?"

"Over there, about thirty yards." The silver BMW glinted in the moonlight.

″This is the Worcester County Sheriff's Office,″ the bullhorn roared. ″You are trespassing on private property.″

"I'm going to hide the Beemer behind those pines.″ Misha pointed behind them. ″We'll take the Lexus back." 

Jared gave over the keys and Misha sprinted away. 

"Hey, Jensen?" Jared spoke gently. "I'm going to have to carry you to the car."

Jensen's eyes were closed but he nodded. 

He bent over and re-tucked the blanket tightly around Jensen and then cradled him in his arms. 

Misha leaned down, puffing for breath. "You ready, boss?" 

Jensen opened his eyes a crack and asked, "Y...you sure? I'm fine?"

"Yes, I'm sure. You're fine."

A disembodied voice boomed, ″You are committing an act of criminal trespassing. Come out slowly, do not make any sudden moves.″ 

"I'm sorry, Tristan."

"Shh. It's okay."

Jensen fell limp into Jared's arms as Jared stood. He looked to be sound asleep. 

Misha and Jared crouched low, Jensen's head tucked under Jared's chin. They zig zagged their way to the parked Lexus.

The bullhorn sounded from the far southeast side of the field. ″This is the Sheriff's Office. Show yourselves. Come out with your hands in plain sight.″ 

Misha opened the back door to the Lexus. Jared hefted Jensen into the back seat, his head lolling against Jared's chest.

Misha threw the car in gear and inched forward with the headlights off. After a half mile of driving slowly down the country road, Misha switched on the headlights and turned the SUV around. 

"He'll be okay in a few hours. You did all the right things, Jared. Good job."

"What was he so worried about just now?" Jared shifted Jensen's weight in his arms.

"Usually these hard seizures cause incontinence. He must have used the bathroom right before going out, because it didn't this time." Misha stopped at a red light and turned around. "He didn't want to be embarrassed in front of you."

"What?" Jared's eyebrows were at his hairline. "His brain hot-wires, and he's afraid I'm going to see that he peed his pants? Is he for real?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Misha turned left onto the main road, heading for home. ″He's part boss, part friend, and part knight errant."

Jared stroked Jensen's hair, feeling the steady, even breathing of the man lying atop him. Jensen inhaled deeply and opened his eyes a crack. "Trist?"

″Here, Jen.″ 

Jensen lifted his arms to Jared, but was too weary to grab hold. Jared leaned into him and wrapped his arms around him. Jensen cuddled down and was soon snoring softly. 

"If you knew who I really am, how disappointed you'd be," Jared placed his lips to Jensen's temple. "You don't know how terrified I am that you'll see me as I am, and not as I should be."

~~*~~

Jensen slept through the night and most of the following day. Misha had woken him up at regular intervals to force food, drugs and water into him. Today, Jensen locked himself in his room and refused to come out.

″He's embarrassed, Jared.″ Misha told him after the second evening of absent Jensen. ″You didn't do anything wrong.″

Jared was mentally packing his new clothes, wondering if Misha had his mesh shirt and jeans tucked away somewhere. They'd be a bitch to replace.

The doorbell rang, followed by enthusiastic knocking, hard enough to shake the oaken planks of the front door. 

Misha started down the hallway, but Jared beat him.

"Yes, can I help you?"

A tiny, blonde woman with sharp, attractive features stared up at him with bright gray/green eyes. "Who are you, and why are you in this house?"

"I'm Jared, the hired help. And you are?"

"Invited." The woman pushed into Jared's stomach with her shoulder, trying to get past him. When he didn't budge, she grabbed his arm holding the door open and tried to shake it loose.

Jared held his ground, until she backed up to the outside landing. He smiled pleasantly. "If you don't tell me who _you_ are and why you're trying to break into this house, I will call the cops." He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket. 

"Who _are_ you?" 

"Jared. Nine," He said, pushing the corresponding button on his cell.

"You wouldn't."

"I would. One." Jared pressed the number.

Misha's head appeared around the corner.

" _You_." She hissed at Misha. "Are you going to let this lummox bully me? Wait 'til I tell Jensen."

"Now, Mack," Misha said. "You could try, but Jared Tristan here has only one more number to push before the police are summoned. I'd talk to _him_ , first." He pointed to Jared.

Jared dramatically raised his thumb and wiggled it over the face of his cell phone.

She made a face.

"One." Jared made a slow move to complete the call, but Mack grabbed his wrist.

"Stop. Wait. I'm Jensen's sister." 

"Oh, okay then." Jared stepped aside, letting her in. He turned to Misha. "Lummox?"

Misha snorted, but then his face turned cold "What do you want, Mackenzie? It's late. Why are you here?"

"To see Jensen. Why do you always make such a production out of it when I come to visit?" 

"You know you're supposed to call first. Jensen's had a bad couple of days and I would feel fully justified in kicking you out." Misha jutted his chin toward Jared. "He could do it, too."

"Down, boy, everything's cool. I was around and stopped by to say 'Hi.' That's all." Mack said easily. "He knows I'm coming."

Jared was surprised when a fierce protectiveness flared in his chest. "If you do anything to upset him, if Jensen even looks at you funny, you are out on your ass, little sister."

"Who the hell _are_ you? And don't say "Jared." 

"Okay, I'm Jensen's bodyguard, Jared." 

"Why does he need a bodyguard?″ Mackenzie seemed genuinely concerned.

Jensen appeared at the top of the stairs. "Mackenzie, you're _here_." 

"Hey." She smiled up at Jensen. "Good to see you, Jen."

Jensen descended the stairs and threw his arms around his sister.

"Jensen, what is it? Is something wrong?" Mackenzie ran the backs of her fingers against his cheek.

"No, no, nothing's wrong. Nothing at all. I'm glad you called." 

"You wanted her to come?" Misha asked. 

"She asked if she could stop by and I said she could.″ Jensen smiled at her, and turned to Jared. ″This is my sister, Mackenzie."

"We've, met," Jared said, pleasantly.

Jensen caught his breath, his body tense. ″Trist, you're not mad at me for being mortified and locking myself away so I wouldn't have to face you, are you?″

″Of course not.″ Jared saw Jensen relax.

″Good.″ Jensen touched Jared's arm. ″That's good.″

Mackenzie tugged Jensen aside. ″Who is this guy?″ 

″This is Tristan.″ 

Jared whispered to Misha, "I thought you said they didn't come around?"

"Wait for it," Misha said out the side of his mouth. ″I said the family only comes when they want something.″

Mackenzie stood as tall as her five feet three inches allowed. "This beach bum is Tristan? He said his name was Jared."

Jared chuckled. He'd never been called anything as kind as a 'beach bum' before. 

"This is Jared Tristan," Jensen said, simply. "He's the one I've been looking for." 

"Is that what he told you"? Mack said, looking Jared up and down.

"No, that's what I told _him_." Jensen rubbed his temples with his fingertips. "I thought you'd be happy for me. You said he wasn't real. You said I'd never find him, but _here he is_." He turned to Jared and breathed, "Here he is."

Jared's cheeks blushed red, but he met Jensen's eyes.

Mack's face was hard when she turned to Jared. "Does it make you feel like a big man, scamming a brain damaged cancer survivor?"

"It wasn't Jared's idea," Misha defended.

"Quiet, you." She faced Misha. "You'd do anything for Jensen's approval. You don't even _know_ what's good for him anymore. You go along with whatever he wants to believe to make him happy. What's worse, you enable his fantasies."

"Really? What do you know about making him happy?" Misha asked.

"Well, to start, I don't lie to him and take his money." She shot a sinister look at both Misha and Jared.

"No, _you_ forgo the lie and head straight for his wallet." Misha patted his front pocket.

"Misha, stop," Jensen said. 

Misha took a small step back.

"Mackenzie." Jensen lowered his voice. "Misha is my friend, and he takes care of me. Tristan is my—Tristan. Please be nice."

"Say your piece, Mack," Misha said, softly. "You were the one who called."

"He invited me." Mackenzie turned to Jensen. "Tell them."

"I did." Jensen said. "Because I wanted to know for sure. You're right, Mack. Misha's my friend and most of the things he tells me are true, but I know that some things aren't."

"So, you _know_ that he lies to you?" 

"He tells me things are true because he wants me to be happy." He glanced gently at Misha. "Wants me happy. Wants me to be _happy_."

"You know I do." Misha smiled back at him.

Jensen turned back to her. "The brain tumor, the brain surgery—I could have died. Misha helped me through it."

″That doesn't mean he can lie to you.″ She softened her voice, "Jensen, you didn't die. You're doing okay."

Jensen laughed, sadly. "If that's how _you_ define a brain damaged cancer survivor."

Mackenzie's cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

Misha poked her with his elbow to get her attention. "It wasn't cancer."

"So, what do you want, then," she asked Jensen, "other than to introduce me to the love of your life wearing a Ron Jon T shirt?"

Jared smoothed down the green material and said to Misha, "I like this shirt."

"I want us all to be a family again," Jensen said. 

She huffed, "Before all this, you wanted nothing to do with us and _now_ you want me to get mom and dad and Josh together with you and him and him, and make one, big, Sunday dinner?"

"Yes, Mack. That's exactly what I want." Jensen stated.

Mackenzie folded her arms. "That's not going to happen. They don't trust your manservant—they still don't think you're approachable."

Jensen's face fell. "Not going to happen?" He looked at Misha. "See? You keep saying they will, but it's not going to happen. What did I do to them to make it like this? What was I like to them Before?" Jensen smacked his head with an open hand.

"Whoa, Jensen." Misha took hold of Jensen's wrist. "Easy. Nobody did anything bad. They didn't do anything bad, you didn't do anything bad. You all just drifted apart."

"Nothing bad?" Jensen bit his lip and looked worried.

"No. You could never do anything bad, but I had hoped your family would know that and start coming around more." Misha looked Mackenzie in the eye.

Mackenzie rallied. "You're not bad, Jen. Maybe I spoke too soon. I'll talk to them. They're pretty busy, but when the holidays roll around, we _will_ come up with a way to all get together. But probably not with them."

"Holidays are family times. They're my family."

" _We're_ your family; now you're choosing them over us."

"No, I'm not. They're _here_ with me. Where are all of you? The last time you came you said that Josh underestimated the real estate market and needed my help to deal with his multiple mortgages. I don't see _him_. You said that mom and dad wanted to take a...take a...broa...shil,″ Jensen smacked his head again, ″a _cruise_ to Alaska this summer to celebrate their anniversary, and 'we all' thought it would be great if I took care of that. I don't remember being one of the 'we all's. You called two months ago and said you needed help with your car loan, credit card debts and over extended cash advances and would like me to fix them. Is that what family means to you? Bill paying?"

"No, Jensen, but you've always helped us out. You've got enough money."

"You know what, Mack? I want to. I want to help. I am ready to help with the things you need. But it would be nice to get a phone call every once and a while without any strings attached. I don't need much more than that. I love you all, but I don't think you love me the same way."

Jensen smiled sadly. "I wanted you here to share something—someone— special. You couldn't be happy for me. Why?"

"You got weird, Jensen. You've always been strange, even as a kid. Sweet, but strange. Then you got so involved with your inventions and your businesses you kept us all at arm's length. Before the surgery you were so busy that money was how _you_ kept in touch with _us_. Money was love back then."

"I…I don't remember that."

"Then after the operation, you changed. You went all – screwy. Look around you, for God's sake. You think this is normal? You think you're normal? We can't keep up with you."

Misha rose up. "You never even tried. None of you. He had _brain surgery_ for God's sake."

"Stop." Jensen dropped his head, and looked as though his heart was breaking. He said to Mackenzie, "Write up what you need and give it to Misha. He'll take care of it. I'm sorry about how I was before. I must have been awful and I'm sorry."

"Jen," Jared touched Jensen's arm. "That _can't_ be true."

Jensen patted his hand. ″I'm sorry about locking myself up in the bedroom. I missed you, Trist, I missed you, I _missed_ you.″

″You don't need to apologize.″ Jared put his arm around Jensen's shoulders and headed them up the stairs.

Mack turned her big eyes to Misha who had unlocked the desk drawer and was pulling out a checkbook and ledger. "No, wait." She ran to the bottom of the stairs. "Jensen," she called.

Jensen looked down on her from the top landing.

"You're right. You're right, we _didn't_ try hard enough. _I'm_ sorry." Mack brushed at her eyes. "I'd like to stay here and visit for a couple of days. Would that be okay?"

She took a step toward the staircase. "Please? I'd really like that.″

Jensen looked at Jared. He was so tired, so worn and so sad that Jared said, "Let her stay. I want to get to know her."

Jensen's tired eyes lit up. "You do?"

"Yeah, she's your sister."

"Okay, yes," Jensen straightened up and called down the stairs. "Yes, Mack, stay. Stay for a visit. We'll start tomorrow morning. A new start. We can try together." He smiled up at Jared, reached for his hand and walked them both to his bedroom. 

~~*~~

"You asked her to come so she could meet me?" Jared helped Jensen out of his shirt and pants and into his fluffy bathrobe. Mid July, and Jensen needed a bathrobe to keep warm.

"I thought she'd be happy for me. Misha always says that my family wants the best for me. He never mentioned anything about how I was to them Before. I know I haven't seen them very much and I wanted to. I wanted my family, but they never came and I don't know what I did to cause that." Jensen shrugged. "Misha makes excuses for my family's behavior and then tells me they love me. It looks like I really messed that up."

Jensen sniffed into his sleeve, sat and booted up his computer. 

"No. Misha's right. Of course your family loves you, how could they _not_?" Jared's hands dropped onto Jensen's shoulders and gently massaged the tight muscles in his neck. "We'll fix it with them."

Jensen exhaled and hummed appreciatively as Jared worked out the knots in Jensen's shoulders. After a few minutes he leaned forward and squinted at the computer screen. He rubbed his eyes to clear them, sighed and then closed the computer down. He schooled his face into a neutral expression and asked, "Do _you_ , Jared? Do you love me?"

Jared thought as fast as he could for the right response.

"You have me. You have Misha. We're your family and…and you are mine."

Another right answer, because Jensen stood and opened his arms wide, enveloping Jared in a hard, bear hug. 

"My family, my family, you're my family." Jensen nuzzled Jared's neck. "I love you, I love you, I _love_ my family."

Jared laid his cheek on Jensen's head, feeling his soft hair brush against his chin. 

"I'm sorry you were left alone for so long, Trist. But now you're not. Now you're with me. You're part of my family, and we'll take care of each other." Jensen looked up with crystalline green eyes. "My family. I _love_ you."

Jared leaned down, tilted Jensen's head up and touched those innocent, gentle lips with his. Jensen's eyes were closed with a small, pleased smile on his face when Jared stepped back. Jensen swayed into Jared, his eyes still closed. Jared hugged him close and kissed him chastely at first, lip to lip, until Jensen opened his mouth wide enough for Jared's tongue to enter. Jensen sighed a happy sigh, wrapped his arms tight behind Jared, and kissed him until they both forgot where they were.

Then Jensen gasped and pulled away. "What have I done? No, _no_ , Tristan, I don't want you to think," he was shaking. "What have I done?″

"Nothing bad, Jen. You could never do anything bad. You're so goddamned good to me." Jared reached out and carefully pulled him back, hugging him gently, kissing Jensen's lips, his eyes, and his hair. Jensen arched into Jared's caresses and wrapped his arms around Jared's neck. 

"I've waited for you, and here you are," Jensen whispered. 

"Here I am." Jared laid them both down on the bed. Jensen in his fluffy bathrobe and Jared in his board shorts and green T shirt. 

Jensen kissed down Jared's neck and then pressed his lips to Jared's heart. "Will you do something for me?" he panted into Jared's chest with his eyes downcast. 

"Anything you want." 

Jensen spoke slowly. ″I hope you won't mind. It helps me relax when I'm agitated, but I can't coordinate myself right now." Jensen smirked sleepily as he rolled over to the nightstand. 

Jared's pulse kicked up a notch as Jensen opened the drawer and hunted around inside. It was several seconds before his hand found the object he was searching for.

Handing it to Jared he said, "Can you start at the top of page 106?"

Jared chuckled softly, opened Sebastian Junger's, The Perfect Storm, and Jensen closed his eyes. Jared read aloud, the story of the swordfishermen crew of the _Andrea Gail_. When Jensen lay sound asleep in his arms, Jared pressed his lips to Jensen's forehead and thought about his own life. 

His life as it had been, as it was now, and, the possibilities beyond.

~~*~~

Mackenzie was eating breakfast at the kitchen table when Jared came downstairs. 

"So, you're Tristan?" Mackenzie poured herself some orange juice. 

"Yes, I'm Jared Tristan, and you're Jensen's sister, Mackenzie. Remember, we met last night?"

"Smart ass." 

"Smart ass, lummox, make up your mind," Jared said, lightly. 

Wiping her mouth on one of the cloth napkins she said, "You're not going to get away with it, you know."

"Probably not," Jared agreed. "But neither are you. You and your whole family have broken his heart."

At least she had the decency to look guilty. "There are two sides to every story. I don't owe you any explanations." 

"You want me out of the picture?" Jared asked, pouring a cup of coffee.

"Oh, like you'd give up this sweet gig?" 

"Give Jensen his real family. Get his parents and his brother to make contact and reconcile. Visit him for his birthday or something." Jared closed his eyes before he continued. "Give him back a fraction of what he lost, and I'll get out of the way—I'll go back to where he found me."

"No." Jensen stood in the kitchen doorway. "You're not trading yourself ever again. Not for her, not for me, not for anyone. _Never_ again." 

Jensen's eyes were clear and sharp, hair still wet from his morning shower. Jensen's skin glowed and he smelled of citrus and honeysuckle. 

"He's a _hooker_ , not just a surfer dude?" Mackenzie was alarmed. "Jensen?"

"It doesn't matter to me." Jensen touched Jared's cheek.

″Don't you see how crazy this all is? Are you too far out of it to see what's going on? Jensen, he's _playing_ you. He doesn't _care_ about you, he's here for your money.″ Mack was openly upset. 

″That's funny, coming from you, Mackenzie.″ Misha said, entering the kitchen.

"And what about you?" Her distressed voice was sharp. ″You handle all his money. Who supervises _you_? Where are _those_ checks and balances?″

″Stop it, both of you,″ Jared raised his voice. 

Jensen had gone silent, and was looking at the floor with sad, wet eyes. ″Mackenzie, Tristan is here because I want him here. I asked him to come, and every day I hope he stays. I know that might be crazy, that _I_ might be crazy, but I want him here.″ 

Jensen breathed out, forcefully. "Misha takes care of me and keeps me safe. He did Before, and he still does. I would be lost without him. Among all the things he does for me, a very important one is that he makes sure I stay healthy. He sees that I eat properly and gives me my meds on schedule."

He walked over, facing her. ″Did you know that I have to take several different kinds of medications at different times during the day?" 

"No," she answered softly. "I didn't."

"Misha does, and he makes sure I take them all, because if he didn't I'd forget to. He makes sure I get to bed at night and shower in the morning because I'd forget that, too." His voice was deeply sad. "Would _you_ know what to do, Mack, if I left the stove on or left the water running in the bathtub or locked myself out of the house? Because Misha does."

"You did what?" She looked up.

Jensen sighed. "Could you have handled me as well as Jared did when I thought he was a living dream wearing ripped jeans and a woman's shirt standing on a street by the boardwalk, and I called you Tristan?" He looked at Jared with affection. "What would you think, Mack, if I started seizing in a soy field after pulling out a switchblade and shouting that the farm's irrigation systems were soil poisoning monsters?"

"Is that how you are, now?" Jensen's sister's eyes opened wide. "I mean, I get leaving the stove on, but monsters and prostitutes and switchblades? Is that what the brain tumor did to you?"

"Technically, it's what the removal of the brain tumor did, but, yeah. That's how I am now. But, I'm okay, Mack. I really am. My family keeps me safe." He smiled at Misha and Jared.

"I'm happy and I'm still inventing. I've found a way of creating unlimited energy from the sea. I'm close to devising ways for the Earth to heat her planet and replenish her fresh water supply. So, I'm really still me.″

"You need help, Jen. I didn't realize the extent of it. I need to get you help."

Jensen shook his head. "No, you don't. I have everything I need right here."

"I'm only thinking of you," she said. "I want to help you. Maybe we've grown apart, but I never stopped loving you."

"What would you say, Mackenzie, if I told you that I've never been happier?" Jensen walked up to Jared and kissed him on the cheek.

Mackenzie stood. She placed her empty glass on the counter, grabbed her purse and walked to the front door.

"I'd say that you weren't yourself—that you are unrecognizable as the brother I knew before the brain surgery. I'd say that I never knew you to be interested in men. I'd say that you have become helpless and have surrounded yourself with people who take advantage of you.″

″Big brother,″ Mackenzie's voice was soft and sad. ″I'd have to say, 'see you in court.'"

She opened the door and glanced at Jensen. "You can't take care of yourself, your property or your finances. You're not safe, Jensen. You think that your weird assistant can take care of you and that a street hooker is your Prince Charming. You can't live like this anymore. I have friends who are lawyers, and friends who are doctors, and I know they'll agree with me." 

_″You.″_ She turned to fully face Jared. "You were the straw that broke him. You've knocked him down and pushed him over the edge. You're all going to be held responsible for what you've done to him." 

'What I've done to him?' Jared thought as the echo of the slamming door reverberated throughout Jensen's house. 'Dear God, what have I done to him?'

~~*~~

Jensen sat opposite Misha at the kitchen table. "She said she had friends who are doctors and lawyers. She said, 'see you in court.' I think she's going to try to declare me legally incompetent." He laughed. "Finally, the court will hand down a just and fair decision."

"It's not funny, Jensen," Misha said. He turned toward Jared. "Some help you were. You were hired to protect him."

"Guess I'm overpaid, then."

"Stop it, Misha. You weren't there when Jared was fina...″ Jensen shut his eyes and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. ″ _negotiating_ with my sister. He said he'd go back to hooking if it would get my family back."

"You called him Jared."

"Yes, that's his name. As is Tristan. Just because it's his middle name doesn't make it less of his real name." 

"I guess it doesn't. Anyway," Misha continued. "Your sister's bluffing. No way she's taking you to court, and no way any doctor is going to deem you non compos mentis."

"It might not be as easy as you think." Jensen said looking at his slippered feet, "It might not be so cut and dried. It might be that she's right."

"Why are you saying that?" Misha asked. "Of course you're not insane."

Jensen swallowed. ″How do _you_ know? Because I know that I can't swear to it.″

~~*~~  
Part Three  
~~*~~

As usual, the window to the master bedroom was open, letting the hot air and the sounds of the sea permeate the room. The ceiling fan created a salty, humid breeze, but the central air conditioning did the job of keeping the temperature and humidity of the hot August night from brutalizing them. Jared lay in Jensen's bed with Jensen wrapped around him, holding tight. 

"I think maybe it's best if you leave." Jensen's chin quivered as he spoke.

"You don't really want me to go, do you?" Jared asked, smoothing Jensen's sweaty hair away from his face.

"No, Trist. I don't want you to go. Not ever. But it would be best for you. Be best for you to be away from the courtroom. Misha will still pay you. That way you can be safe, go to school, be safe. I don't want you to go to jail because you were a hooker."

Jared ran his fingers through Jensen's hair, massaging the scars that ran across his head. The scars that were proof of Jensen's triumph over death—as well as the cause of the legal case scheduled for tomorrow.

"They can't arrest me for being a hooker unless they catch me at it. I'm not doing that now, am I?"

Jensen made purring sounds deep in his throat as Jared scratched behind his ear at the hairline.

"Not for anyone." Jensen bent his neck to the left. ″Never again.″

They lay like that, dozing in the heat, puffs of air blowing down on them with each revolution of the fan's blades, waves breaking softly every few seconds.

"You won't leave me, will you?" Jensen's voice was soft and scared.

"Not planning on it," Jared said. "No."

"Not even if the court finds me legally crazy and not just smart crazy?"

"Not even then, but the court won't rule that way. You are a brilliant, important scientist with life-saving inventions that still need to be built. The judge would be reckless if he found you incompetent. I have faith that the court will recognize your genius and your capability and not rule against you." Jared brushed his lips against the scars, kissing across Jensen's head. "I have faith in you."

"You do, don't you?" Jensen smiled with his eyes closed.

"Doesn't matter anyway. Misha and I made a deal and _you_ are the only one who can kick me out. Not him, not Mackenzie, not the judge, only you. Nobody else."

"You could choose to go if you wanted."

"Yes, I could. But I won't." 

Sleep muffled Jensen's speech. "That's because you love me, isn't it? Because you're my family and I'm yours."

"My family," Jared repeated. 

Jared continued running his fingers through Jensen's hair, swallowing a tiny lump that formed in this throat. Never, in his entire, miserable life, could he ever remember saying those two words. My family.

"I love you, you know." Jensen was teetering on the edge of sleep.

"Do you love me a little bit?" Jared teased, softly.

Jensen chuckled, "I love _Misha_ a little bit. The rest of it has always been for you. The rest of all my love is for Jared."

Jared's voice caught in his throat. "I'm a lucky bastard."

Jensen's breathed in deep, his eyes were shut and his limbs were heavy. But under his breath, Jared heard, "I love you, I love you, I _love_ you. My Jared."

~~*~~

"The District Court of the state of Delaware is now in session, the Honorable Judge Fredric Lehne, presiding. All rise."

Judge Lehne entered, wearing the customary black robes, looking regal and somber. After taking his seat, the court officer asked the courtroom to, "Please be seated."

Judge Lehne spoke from the bench. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. I will briefly explain why we're here today. 

"I have read the case that's about to be presented, and I consider it a very serious matter when a motion is made to take all decision-making responsibilities away from one party and entrust the control of that person's health, well-being and assets to another party.

"All courts take an oath to decide cases fairly and impartially, so I will be examining today's testimony very closely. A jury trial was waived by the defendant, therefore the final decision of this court rests solely on my shoulders."

The judge addressed the uniformed officer. "Please state the case for the record." 

"Your Honor, Case number 09-10317 is called to determine the competence of one Jensen Ross Ackles in the matter of Ackles v. Ackles, for the purpose of granting guardianship of Jensen Ross Ackles's health and welfare as well as granting conservatorship of his financial estate to his parents Alan and Donna Ackles, who are absent for today's proceedings, so by proxy, to Mackenzie Ackles, Jensen Ackles's sister, Delaware codes 4102 and 3901"

"Heavy stuff, Mr. Murray," The judge said to the plaintiff's lawyer.

"Yes, Your Honor." Chad M. Murray stood. "Miss Ackles does not bring this case lightly." 

Judge Lehne burrowed down into the plush leather chair, taking in the young lawyer. "Counselor, you'd better have some damn good reasons for me to judge this man," he aimed his gavel at Jensen, "incompetent."

"We do, Your Honor."

"Of course you do." Judge Lehne placed the gavel on the bench and folded his hands across his stomach. "Proceed."

"Your Honor, we have the case of a concerned, caring family asking the court to do what's best for their disabled family member. We contend that Dr. Jensen Ross Ackles has become an abused, vulnerable adult following surgery to remove a brain tumor. According to Dr. Ackles's sister, he told her that he could have died, so even he knew the situation was dire. I have entered into evidence, depositions from expert witnesses confirming that the surgery caused permanent brain damage with irreversible cognitive, emotional, neurological and physical impairments." 

Murray moved away from his desk and stood in front of the judge. "I will present testimony demonstrating that Dr. Ackles is living in a dangerous environment. I will show that he is being cajoled, brainwashed, and stripped of his independence by the people living in his house. I assert that his associates are opportunists, preying upon Dr. Ackles's handicap by using his assets for their own purposes. I will present evidence that his assistant, Misha Collins, who is now keeping Dr. Ackles medicated, has no medical degree or formal medical training. That he has full control over, not only medications and personal care, but of Dr. Ackles's finances and property, _and_ that he controls all assets including the very lucrative _SAaSD Devices_. I will offer testimony that Mr. Collins does not keep Dr. Ackles appraised or properly notified before obtaining his consent for household spending, random purchases or large financial decisions prior to making them."

Murray whirled around dramatically. "And that this man, Jared Tristan Padalecki, is the worst kind of reprobate. To state it bluntly, Mr. Padalecki is a gold digging prostitute, swindling Dr. Ackles's by using the good doctor's delusions for his own, personal gain. I have put into evidence, Jared Padalecki's arrest record for soliciting, his arrest record for indecent exposure, his arrest record for loitering and, most seriously, his arrest for unarmed robbery."

Misha leaned in toward Jared. "I thought you said you were a whore, not a burglar."

"Burglary isn't robbery. There's a difference." Jared whispered. "When you're six foot four and you knock somebody five foot three down while stealing a quart of milk, it goes from shoplifting to robbery. The guy felt threatened. Pled down to a misdemeanor." He nudged Misha, "Why do these people describe me using words like lummox and reprobate?" 

Misha chuckled into his hand.

"Mackenzie Ackles will provide testimony stating that, before meeting Jared Padalecki, Dr. Ackles had never had a homosexual encounter in his life, and only dated women. Leading to the _fact_ that Jared Padalecki is a degenerate and a corrupting influence."

Jensen's angry snort was heard throughout the courtroom.

"Your Honor, these two men, Collins and Padalecki, are taking advantage of Dr. Ackles's, kind and frail nature. They are keeping his family from contacting him. The Ackles' now realize the severity of Jensen's situation and assert that he needs protection under the law. Dr. Ackles has always been a private individual, and his family preserved his privacy after the trauma of the surgery, but once they discovered the perilous circumstances under which he was living, they were forced to step in and beg for the court's help."

Murray stood before the judge's bench. "Your Honor, the Ackles family stands before you, urgently asking that you to help them, help him.″ Chad raised his hands beseechingly. ″Your Honor. Help them, help him."

"Show me the money," Misha said, under his breath.

Chad Murray sat next to Jensen's sister, and immediately, James Beaver, Jensen's lawyer, stood to present his opening argument.

"Your Honor, I'm coming to you today to plead for the life of a man who survived a massive skull base surgery—that's a kind of surgery where they open up your whole head—to remove a very big, non-cancerous brain tumor. Jensen survived the aftermath of the surgery after going through rounds of radiation, months of follow up with a crew of physicians, and session after session of physical, occupational, and cognitive therapy. And, by God, Your Honor, he got through it with courage, grace and dignity.″

Jim stepped in to face the judge. ″However, as it sometimes happens with this type of surgery, there were some left-overs.

"Jensen has some lingering medical issues, and, because his brain's frontal lobes were affected by the removal of the tumor, he has had some personality changes. But, and I stress this, Your Honor, his intelligence has not been touched. Not a bit. He remains the brilliant genius who created amazing devices.″

Jensen's eyes lit up at the mention of his machines.

Jim spoke to the judge, conversationally. "The neurological concerns are treated by prescription medications and by follow ups with his doctors. His physical weaknesses are addressed by exercise and diet. His life, in some senses, is harder, but if you ask him, he won't say that, and you know why? It's _because_ of the personality changes. He'll tell you he's _happy_."

Jim walked the length of the courtroom, coming to a stop in front of Jensen's seat.

"Now, I'm not a doctor, so I'm not going to pretend to know anything about this, but as even Wikipedia can tell you, the frontal lobes of the brain are where personality, impulse control and inhibitions are housed. Jensen's inhibitions have been weakened by surgical trauma, and, yes, Your Honor, that's a fact.″

Jim smiled reassuringly at Jensen. "As I hear tell, your brain has a filter between what you think and what you say, what you want and what you shouldn't want, and what you think and what you do. For example…"

Jim turned all the way around to face opposing counsel. "Right now, my frontal lobe successfully prevents me from punching Mr. Murray in the face."

Chad sat up raising his hands. "Your Honor."

Both Jim and the judge ignored his protest. 

Jim continued, "This screen between your mind and your mouth is located in the frontal lobes of the brain. After the surgery, Jensen's screen was left with a bunch of holes and his impulses were compromised. In essence, some of Jensen Ackles's inhibitions were cut away by a surgeon's knife. But, guess what?"

″Yup.″ Jim raised his arms out to the side. "Like I said, he'll tell you he's happy. He says he's happier now than he's ever been in his whole life.

″Now, it's true that he's more inclined to flights of fancy, more romantic in his thinking, and less careful about considering the consequences of his actions, but this condition doesn't make him handicapped, doesn't affect his sanity and doesn't impair his intelligence. It does, however dissolve the restraints holding him back from loving a person of the same sex. In this, Your Honor, the surgery allowed Jensen to be comfortable with his true nature.

"I am here, Your Honor, to defend this man's life, liberty and right to make his own choices. He has his own income and the ability to continue earning a living. However, sir, most importantly, I am here to make sure that this man's happiness is not snatched out from under him. I emphasize that Jensen Ackles's personality changes do not render him incompetent. Jensen's lack of inhibition does not make him insane, and that Dr. Ackles has all the supports in place that he needs to continue living an independent, safe, healthy, productive and happy life. This man has suffered so much, so I beg the court to allow him to return to his life, his livelihood and his makeshift family."

Jim sat heavily next to Jensen. 

Jensen turned and looked Misha and Jared sitting on the other side of the rail behind him. "Life, livelihood, family. Life, livelihood, family. I want my life, I want my livelihood and I need my family."

~~*~~

Several moments went by with Judge Lehne writing on a note pad. "All right, gentlemen," he said addressing the lawyer duo. "Before we continue I'd like a word with you both. Mr. Murray and Mr. Beaver, please approach the bench."

The two men stood at attention before the judge. "Gentlemen, as you know, I've received depositions from all of your expert witnesses."

The judge's voice carried throughout the courtroom. "Mr. Murray, you have three physicians, three neurologists, and three psychiatrists who ascertain that Dr. Ackles is a poor, pathetic, hopeless case who is a danger to himself and small animals everywhere, and needs to be taken care of for his own good."

He turned to Jim. "Mr. Beaver, I have read your depositions from an equal number of experts claiming that, while he is somewhat forgetful and absorbed, Dr. Ackles is absolutely sane, happy as a happy clam, and as normal as blueberry pie. By the laws of mathematics," Lehne stared at Jim, "which can be found in Wikipedia, these experts cancel each other out."

"Your Honor!" Jim stated vehemently.

"Your _Honor_ ," Chad whined.

"I'm the one hearing this case, and none of your experts have convinced me one way or the other. I'm going to give you both a lot of leeway questioning these witnesses because they are all you have to either make or break your case." He turned to Chad. "Find a way to convince me, Mr. Murray, or I'm tossing it out. The burden of proof is on you."

"Certainly, Your Honor." Chad quickly composed himself. "I will. To the court's satisfaction, I will."

~~*~~

Chad Murray called Mackenzie Ackles as his first witness. Now that the expert testimonies were a zero sum game, the people responsible for determining Jensen's future were all assembled in this little courtroom. 

Mackenzie walked up to the stand and placed her right hand on the bible. She was dressed in a pink flowered skirt and a white scoop necked blouse and looked all of thirteen instead of twenty-five.

″Miss Ackles, please explain to the judge why you are petitioning the court.″

″Your Honor, I believe that Jensen is being taken advantage of by the people he has living with him. They keep him away from his family. They make us jump through hoops, well, Mr. Collins does, whenever we want to come and see him, and when I last visited my brother, Jared Tristan threatened me at the door.″

Mackenzie took a breath. ″Jensen doesn't handle his own money at all. He gives his checkbooks over to Misha to do what he wants with them with no oversight. He's fully in charge of Jensen's funds. I'll bet Jen doesn't even know how much he's paying for Tristan to stay there. I know they say things trying to turn Jensen against us.″

″Your Honor, ″ Jim began.

″They say things like, 'they only come around when they want something.' ″ Mack raised her voice over the opposing counsel. ″I _heard_ Misha say that when I was there. That's when I began to realize how dangerous the situation was. Jensen has seizures and takes medicine for them. I found out that he's on a lot of other drugs, too, not only for seizures, but for headaches, insomnia, appetite stimulation, mood stabilization and other things I never knew about. ″ 

She looked at Jensen. ″I swear, I never knew.″

Mack lowered her voice. ″Jensen can't be trusted making inventions anymore because the things he wants to do are crazy.″

″What do you mean?″ Murray asked, gently.

″He wants to use the Earth to heat the entire planet.″

″Did he tell you that?″ 

″Yes, he did. And that's _insane_.″

″Your Honor.″ Jim stood. ″Ms. Ackles wasn't one of our many expert witnesses.″

″Mr. Murray, tell your witness to refrain from making diagnoses.″ 

Chad raised his hand in assent. "Miss Ackles, why is your brother counter-suing?″

″He doesn't believe he's been disabled by the brain surgery. He doesn't believe his real family has his best interests at heart. He believes that his new family, Mr. Collins and Mr. Padalecki, is all the family he needs to take care of him. I believe they are robbing and conning him."

"Your Honor, prejudicial."

"Sit down, Mr. Beaver. You'll get your turn."

″Your Honor, we love him but Jensen has shut us out. They made him shut us out. Misha makes us call first, before we visit, and sometimes he says 'no,' that it's _inconvenient_. Sometimes we do ask for help, but Jensen _wants_ to help us financially. He always has. We've had our ups and downs, like all families do, but I know, despite it all, he loves us, and I hope he knows that we love him. But those men must have warped his version of what family and familial love really is."

"Your Honor!"

"Sit _down_ , Mr. Beaver," Judge Lehne growled. 

″I am Jensen's concerned sister; our parents are elderly and worried sick about their youngest son, our older brother, Josh, would die for him.″

Mackenzie hesitated before saying, ″Your Honor." She stopped and started again, "Your Honor, Jensen wasn't gay before the brain tumor, I _know_ he wasn't. Those two have convinced him that he is.″

Chad raised his hand to quiet his client as Jim stood again. "Miss Ackles, only answer my questions. Other than becoming gay, tell us how else you think he's changed."

"Okay," she said, calming herself. "My brother is not himself. He used to be more involved with taking care of us, and keeping in touch with us when he could. Now, he's shut himself up in his house with a bulldog on the phone, and a hooker in his bed."

"Your Honor!" Jim's voice boomed.

"Okay, Mr. Beaver. Mr. Murray, I know your client's upset, but remember, this is my courtroom."

"Yes, Your Honor. I'm sorry." Chad gave Mackenzie what looked like a genuine scowl. "While Dr. Ackles's sister is understandably distraught, I apologize and ask the court's indulgence. This is a very trying time. No further questions." 

Mack shrank down in the witness stand.

Judge Lehne looked at Jensen's lawyer. "Okay. Your turn, Mr. Beaver."

″Yes.″ Jim scribbled himself a note. "Thank you, Your Honor."

Jim stood tall and paced a circle in front of Mackenzie. "So, you say that you had to call first, but were you ever denied the chance to visit?"

"Well, no. We were always able to arrange a time, but why should I have to schedule with _Misha_ in advance?"

"Did it occur to you that there may have been other plans, other appointments that Dr. Ackles had that would have made an impromptu visit inconvenient or even impossible?"

"He's my brother. I should be able to see him whenever I want."

"Your Honor?" Jim looked up at the judge.

"Answer the question, Miss Ackles. Did you think an unplanned visit might be inconvenient?"

She squirmed in her seat. "Um, no, because I thought he would want to see me when I could make it out there."

"When you could make it out there?" Jim repeated.

"Yes."

"Did you make it out there to visit your brother in hospital after his surgery?"

"No, because..."

"Did you visit him in rehab after?" 

"I couldn't. I was out of the country on a work study program."

Jim turned to the judge. "Let the record state that Dr. Ackles was in a rehab center for physical, occupational, speech and other skilled services for eight weeks after neurosurgery." 

"I wasn't _around_ ," Mackenzie said. "I tried to keep in touch. I called. I left messages. That's all I could do."

"Your parents, your older brother? Where were they?"

"Objection, Your Honor." Murray jumped to his feet.

"Sustained. You'll have to ask them, Mr. Beaver."

"Miss Ackles, do you know where your parents are right now?"

"They're on a cruise for their forty-fifth anniversary."

"Who paid for this cruise?"

"Jensen did."

"Do you know why your older brother, Joshua Ackles, is not here today?"

"He had important business with one of his tenants. He owns rental property. He tried to, but he couldn't get away." She turned to Jensen. "He cares about you. He _does_. We all do."

Jensen closed his eyes. Jared reached his long arm out over the rail separating them, and stroked up and down Jensen's back. Jensen was wound tight as a drum, and his breath hitched in short sobs. Jared laid his palm against Jensen's neck from behind until Jensen relaxed. 

″Now you said when you finally got the chance to visit your brother, you were threatened by this man, here?″ Jim raised his hand to Jared.

″Yes.″

″What did he threaten you with?″

″He wouldn't let me come in and he threatened me.″ Mack looked up at the judge. ″I felt threatened.″

Jim backed up. ″When you say you felt threatened, did you mean when Mr. Padalecki asked who you were and why you were there, and you tried to push past him twice, and he began dialing 911? Was that when you felt threatened?″

Mack brushed her bangs out of her eyes. ″He's a big guy, and I'm a petite woman.″

″See? Right there.″ Jared elbowed Misha. ″The difference between shoplifting and unarmed robbery.″

″Miss Ackles, what makes you think that Jensen doesn't know where his money is going?″

″He didn't exactly say that, but when he went to give us some financial help, he said that Misha knew where the checkbook was, and that it was Misha who handles all of his money.″

″Did Jensen ask him to?″

″To what?″

″Did Dr. Ackles ask Mr. Collins to get out the checkbook and write you a check?″

″Yes.″

Jim walked around to his desk and looked at his note pad. "You say that your brother wasn't gay before the surgery. You said, and I quote, 'Those two have convinced him that he is.' Is that right?"

"Yes, that's right."

"How do you know he wasn't gay?"

"He only dated women. He never said anything about being attracted to men."

"Miss Ackles, do you know anyone who's gay?"

"Uh, no. Not that I know of."

"Are you sure that no one you know is gay? Can you say with certainty that out of all the acquaintances you have that not one person you know is gay?"

"Not with certainty. I guess maybe someone is."

"If your neighbor down the street told you he was gay, would you believe him?"

Mackenzie looked puzzled. "I don't know him very well, but I guess so."

"Would it matter to you? Would you call him a liar? Would you question _his_ sexuality?"

" _No_. Of course not."

"Your Honor," Chad stood.

"Get to the point, Mr. Beaver."

"So, Miss Ackles your neighbor, whom you now assume is straight, could tell you tomorrow that he was gay and you would accept it without question. But your own brother, who would swear on this stand that he was always gay, you would not believe. Is that correct?"

Mackenzie looked down.

"Miss Ackles?" Jim prompted.

"I don't believe that Jensen was gay," she said, softly.

Murray rose to his feet. "She has already stated that Your Honor."

Jim nodded. "Let the record show that Mackenzie Ackles would believe a stranger's claim of being gay after believing him to be straight, but would not give her brother the same courtesy." Jim turned to her. "After all he's been through, he finally comes out, and you don't believe him. And you say you know what familial love really is? That's all, Your Honor." Jim sat next to Jensen who sat huddled sadly in his chair. ″No more questions.″

Mackenzie stood down and took her seat next to Chad. 

Chad said, ″Your Honor, I would like to state for the record that my next witness, my next two witnesses are also witnesses for the defendant and therefore hostile to my case.″

″So noted. Proceed.″

Misha Collins was called to the stand and sworn in.

″Mr. Collins, how long have you known Dr. Ackles?″

″Eleven years.″

″Does he know that you're a felon?″

″Objection.″

″Yes.″

″Mr. Collins, you are Dr. Ackles's personal assistant, are you not?″

″I am so.″

″Tell the court, briefly, what that entails.″

″I transcribe notes for him, I issue and answer emails, and I am the liaison between him and his various corporations and holdings. I'm his sounding-board for new ideas and concepts.″

″Your job is also of a more personal nature, is it not?″ 

″It is so.″

″Please describe in brief detail what that function of your job entails.″

″I make sure Dr. Ackles eats properly, I make sure he gets enough rest and that his medications are taken correctly. I make sure his household bills are paid. Dr. Ackles has many physical needs that I help him with.″

″Thank you. That will do.″ Chad faced the judge and turned to his witness. ″Do you give Jensen Ackles his medications as prescribed by his physicians?″

″I do.″

″How do you know to properly administer them?″

″The instructions are written on the labels of the little orange bottles.″

″Have you ever administered his medication improperly, by accident?″

″No.″

″Never?″

He looked at Jensen and grinned. ″Never, ever, ever.″

″What about discretionary medications?″

″Come again?″

″Medications that are not prescribed on a regular basis.″

″You mean like aspirin and antacids?″

″Yes, like that.″

″I ask him. If, for example, he's restless and wants help getting a good night's sleep, I ask him what he needs. He directs me.″

″Mr. Collins, are you a doctor?″

″No, but I play one on TV.″ Misha looked to his right. ″I'm sorry, judge, that was just too easy.″

″Mr. Collins, you're in court, not on stage.″ 

″No, sir, I am not a medical doctor, but I am working on my Doctorate in Applied Science as a student of Johns Hopkins University.″

″No medical training, though?″

″No, sir. Only what I see on TV.″ Misha smiled crookedly.

″So, you're in charge of Dr. Ackles's potent medications?″

″Yes, sir.″

Chad turned on his heel. 

″You make sure Jensen eats properly?″

″Yes.″

″Because if you don't, what happens?″

Misha's grin dimmed a notch. ″Dr. Ackles works so thoroughly that he sometimes doesn't realize the lateness of the hour, and I remind him.″

″To eat.″

″Yes.″

″Do you remind him to go to sleep? Lay out his clothing for the next day?″

″Sometimes.″

″Do you remind him to take his medications?″ Chad's voice was smooth and steady.

″I have the schedule, and I see that he takes them.″

"You hand them to him. Physically." 

"Yes. With a physical glass of water."

″If you don't, what happens?″

Misha looked stumped. ″I don't know.″

″Explain that answer.″

″I don't know what would happen since I've never let it happen.″

″You keep close track of his medications for him.″

″Yes.″

″So, let me get this straight. You tell him when to wake up in the morning, when to eat, what to eat, what to wear, and when to take his medications?″

″Uh, yes. Yes, sir.″ 

″You're in charge of his daily living schedule. Is that by design or necessity?″

″We fell in to a routine.″ Misha fidgeted in his chair.

″Can he take care of himself?″

″Of course he can.″ Misha's confident voice was faltering.

″ _Has_ he ever?″ Chad stared into Misha's expressive eyes. ″Since the surgery, has he ever remembered to eat right, sleep on time, take his drugs, take a _shower_ , without you prompting him?″

Misha looked helplessly at Jensen. ″No.″

″Is that because he can't, or because you won't let him?″

Misha's lips pressed into a fine line.

″Answer the question, Mr. Collins.″

″I don't know,″ he answered. ″I don't want to find out.″

″Do you follow him around to make sure the stove is turned off?″

″I don't _follow_ him.″

″Do you check behind him to be sure he didn't lock himself out?″

″He has his own keys,″ Misha responded weakly.

″Has he ever left the shower running, the heating pad plugged in, the car engine idling? Has he ever forgotten to put his socks on before his shoes?″ 

"Objection!" 

Chad continued, insistently. ″Has Dr. Ackles ever had delusions so strong you had to forcibly talk him out of them? Has he ever had seizures so severe that you've had to call 911?″

Misha bit his lip and remained silent.

"He has, hasn't he, Mr. Collins."

"Yes."

″You're his squire and his clean up man, too, isn't that right?″ Chad asked. ″You run his life for him down to every last detail, because he is either too damaged or too _dependent_ upon you to do it on his own, _or_ …" Chad turned on Misha. "You have taken over this man's life in a very, very unnatural way.″ 

Misha silently glared at the lawyer.

Chad looked up at the judge. ″That's all I have for this witness, Your Honor.″

Jim Beaver gave Misha a moment to catch his breath and then ambled over to the witness stand.

″Mr. Collins, you've been friends with Jensen for eleven years?″

Jared watched Misha take slow calming breaths. ″Yeah. I mean, yes. For eleven years and counting.″

"So you knew Dr. Ackles before the current situation. Before he had the brain tumor. Before he had the surgery. Before his family began situating themselves into his life. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir. Way before."

"We understand that you were the first one to recognize symptoms of the tumor, and got him help."

"Yes."

"Why did you stick with him?"

Misha sat forward with a puzzled expression. "Pardon?"

"Why did you stay with him and take care of him after discovering there was a potentially _life ending_ prognosis? Was it his money that lured you into taking care of him?"

Misha laughed. "His money?"

"Yes, his money."

"Nope. Wasn't the money." He shared a look with Jensen. "It was the _prestige_."

Both Misha and Jensen burst out laughing.

"The prestige?" Jim asked.

Misha's eyes twinkled. "Well, he is a very famous person."

Jensen giggled, and Misha covered his own smiling lips.

"What were Dr. Ackles's first symptoms?"

Misha sobered. "Headaches, insomnia, smelling spices and sweet aromas and, later, he saw lights. After the MRI and CT scan revealed the tumor, the doctors realized that the lights were really auras that went along with the small seizures he was having. It was an awful time."

"An awful time?" Jim asked.

"Yeah. The surgery, the rehab and the trials at getting Jen's meds right—that took a lot of work. And, oh God, the horrific radiation treatments. But," Misha smiled at Jensen. "Everything's good now." 

"Did Dr. Ackles's parents know about his condition?"

"Honestly, I don't know to what degree they understood what was going on. I left messages for them. Actually, they are elderly and I think modern technology intimidates them." Misha glanced briefly at Jensen. "I know that Mackenzie got them."

"How do you know?"

"She called and left messages for me. I returned them but she was out of the country so we never spoke directly." Surprisingly, Misha looked contrite and straight at Mack. "We were all trying to take it one day at a time back then."

"How do you feel about Dr. Ackles?"

For the first time, Misha relaxed. ″That's easy,″ he said.

″Is it?″

″Yes. I love him.″ He beamed at Jensen. ″More than just a little bit.″ 

Jared's breath caught in throat, moved by Misha's unabashed affection. Jensen sat next to his lawyer's empty chair with a knowing grin, obviously unsurprised by Misha's answer.

Mackenzie's lawyer was caught off guard and blurted from his seat. ″You _love_ him?″

″Of course,″ Misha replied. ″He's my family, the only one I have. I love him.″

Jensen's happy laughter echoed throughout the room.

″Oh, and judge? For the record?″

″Mister Collins?″

″I'm one hundred percent straight. I love women. All _kinds_ of women.″ He said to Jensen, ″Hey, you know what they say: see a broad to get dat booty yak 'em...?″

Jensen quipped, ″...leg 'er down and smack 'em yak 'em!″

″Shiiit,″ Misha grinned as he and Jensen high fived the air.

″Your Honor,″ Jim Beaver addressed the judge. ″I ask the court reporter to strike the jive quotes from the old _Airplane_ movie.″ 

"For God's sake, he's _your_ witness." Judge Lehne sighed and turned to the woman keying in testimony, ″Strike the jive from the record."

~~*~~

"So, Mr. Padalecki," Murray said. "You've been sworn in, so you have to be truthful with the court."

"Yes sir, I intend to, sir." Jared looked particularly respectable. His hair was combed back and he wore a light blue button down and dark gray slacks. Jim had instructed Jared to, indeed, tell the truth the whole truth and nothing but.

"You're a hooker?"

"No, sir, not anymore. I was a hooker."

"Dr. Ackles picked you up on a street corner by the boardwalk in Ocean City, Maryland, correct?"

"Yes, sir, that is correct."

"Did you offer him sex?"

"Yes, sir. I was a hooker."

Chad glowered momentarily.

"Did he take you up on your offer?"

"No, he didn't."

"What did he want from you? If not sex."

"He called me Tristan—which is my middle name—and said he had been searching for me."

Chad snorted. "So, _he_ had been looking for _you_?"

Jared's lips started a slow, wide smile. "Yes," he said staring at Jensen. "Yes, he had been looking for me. I didn't know that at the time, though."

"Did he pay for your services?"

"Yes, but not for sex. He hired me for several jobs. Like, assisting with home maintenance, helping Mr. Collins with any household tasks, chauffeuring, bodyguard, things like that. He never, never treated me like a prostitute."

"He used you for services?"

"He hired me, but not for sexual services. He never approached me for sex or tried anything kinky. He treated me well right away and has never hurt or debased me. That was one of the reasons I stayed on past the first night of only watching him sleep."

"You expect the court to believe that after picking you up on a street corner, engaging your services, noting that you were obviously a male prostitute, you did nothing but watch him sleep?"

"Yes, sir. I expect the court to believe that because it's the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. So help me, God." 

"Then what happened?"

"Sir?" Jared asked, honestly.

"After he picked you up, what happened?"

"He, uh, had a small seizure. I helped Mr. Collins transport him home, and there I stayed."

"Why?"

"I stayed because I was safe, well fed, and knew I had a good thing, because before Jensen, I never had one—ever." 

"That's all for now."

"Really? That's it?" Jared said, but then clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Your witness, Mr. Beaver." Chad sat.

"Jared, being a prostitute is difficult, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir, it is. It's a life born of necessity." He lowered his eyes. "Everyone's got to eat."

"I understand, son. Now, have you ever been arrested?"

"Yes." 

"More than once?"

"Yes, sir."

"While on the job, have you ever been hospitalized because of your job?"

"Yes." Jared looked over at Jensen's stricken face.

"More than once?"

Jared looked down to avoid Jensen's sorrowful gaze. "Yes, sir."

"Did Dr. Ackles hire you for sex?"

"Well, if he did, he never got his money's worth."

"Answer the question properly, son," Jim admonished.

Jared met Jim's eyes. "No, sir. Dr. Ackles did not hire me for sex."

"Have you ever had sex with him?"

"No, sir."

"Have you kissed him?" Jim asked.

Jared smiled. "Yes. Yes, we've kissed."

"Did you charge him extra for it?"

Jared looked up disbelieving. "No, of course not."

Jensen huffed from his seat.

"So, you have come to be an important member of the household?"

"Yes, sir. Perhaps for the first time in my life, I am important to someone." Jared said this to Jensen.

"How do you feel about Dr. Ackles?"

Jared sighed happily. "He's my family. My family. The only one I have." 

~~*~~

″Redirect, Your Honor.″

″Go ahead, Mr. Murray.″

Murray stood in front of Jared. "You say he's your family. Does that mean you love him?"

Jared looked beyond him and saw Jensen's bright, happy eyes. 

"Do you love _him_?″ Chad asked again. ″It's an easy question, Mr. Padalecki."

Jared stayed silent, focusing on a point outside the courtroom window.

"Mr. Padalecki?" 

"It's _not_ an easy question." He turned toward Jensen. "I'm sorry, but it's not.″

Jared composed his thoughts and faced Chad Murray. ″You're asking me a question about something I'm unfamiliar with. The real meaning of the word 'love' isn't in my vocabulary."

"So, let the record show that the prostitute, Jared Padalecki, whom Dr. Ackles picked up on the street, cannot admit in open court, that he loves him." Murray turned to the judge. "What a surprise."

″Objection, Your Honor. Relevance?″

″Told you both I was giving leeway. I'll allow it.″

Jensen became smaller. That's the only way Jared could think to describe it. Jensen sank down in his chair and squeezed his eyes shut, pressing the left side of his face into the hard backed chair, escaping what was going on in front of him. 

Judge Lehne leaned to his left and looked down. "Is that your official answer to the court?" The judge's voice was coarse, but when Jared looked up, the judge tipped his head encouragingly.

"Your Honor, may I explain?"

With the same gruff voice, the judge replied, "Counsel asked you a question. You are _required_ to answer it."

Jared dropped his head in thought. ″Your Honor, there are things I love—the beach, a good sandwich, a dry place to sleep—but you are asking me if I love another _person_. That, sir, is something foreign to me. My mother abandoned me, my foster homes were temporary, and my home on the street was the only home I had until Jensen took me in. He thinks my love is worth something. I don't know how to gauge that because nobody ever wanted it before. Men paid to use my body, and I let them because I had no other use for myself. Some of them said they loved me, right before they ruined my clothes, or gave me a bloody lip. That's my personal experience with love.

"But, Dr. Ackles is different. Jensen thinks that my love is something valuable. _He_ thinks it's something _precious_." 

Jared lifted his eyes to look into Jensen's. "He says I'm like the treasure at the end of a map, but I don't believe him. I am nothing and have nothing to give him, and yet, I make him happy. God help me, Your Honor, he makes me happy, too. But I know that I'm short changing him, since my love is only worth market value. He deserves much more than that. He deserves much more than me."

"Oh, Trist. That's not true.″ Jensen's eyes were wet.

"If I could find a way to deserve him, Your Honor. If I could be a man of noble purpose like he is, if my dirty back alley heart was really worth more than I've ever been paid, if my love had any virtue, then I would give it to him and say, yes. Yes, I love him. But I'm not worthy to make that claim."

"Okay, _enough_ of this." Chad fumed. "This testimony sounds like a bad soap opera."

"Objection."

"Sustained."

Chad let out a long breath. "Mr. Padalecki, I'm going to ask specific questions and you will give me specific answers. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Jared answered the lawyer's question but looked up at the judge.

Murray paced the room. "You believe, with your extreme lack of medical training, that Dr. Ackles is competent."

Beaver stood. "Is that a specific question, Your Honor?"

"Mr. Murray?" 

Chad barged forward. "Mr. Padalecki, do you believe that Jensen Ackles is a competent, sane, responsible, rational human being?"

"Yes," Jared answered promptly.

"You do?" Chad turned with a quizzical look. 

"Yes," Jared repeated.

"Really?" 

"Asked and answered, Your Honor."

"Next question, Mr. Murray."

Chad sucked in a breath. "I will tell you how I define competent, Mr. Padalecki. Competent is the ability to manage one's own affairs, live independently, make educated choices about their finances, medications, and close associates. Competent is having the skills and knowledge to live safely, properly, and within the law. Do you agree?"

Jared cast his eyes up at the young lawyer. "Um…no." 

″ _No_?″ 

"No, because competent in the way you used it just now, is incorrect. What you really wanted to 'define' was the noun _competence_. Competent is an adjective, in this case describing a _person_ as having sufficient, not necessarily outstanding, skills for the successful completion of…something. For example, Jensen Ackles is a competent man. See? An adjective.

″Competence, the noun, is the state of being competent, as in: Competence is having the skills to live safely. There's a difference, and you really can't use the words competent and competence synonymously." Jared looked up with wide eyes. "Is that specific enough for you?"

Jensen's soft giggles lit up the drab courtroom, as Misha snorted indelicately.

Chad ground his teeth together. 

"It was your question, and he was following your instructions, Counselor," the judge stated.

Murray stood ramrod straight and approached the stand. He squared himself in front of Jared. 

"You've known Dr. Ackles for a couple of months, correct?"

"Yes."

"You live with him?"

"Yes."

"You _sleep_ with him?"

"Soundly."

"Your knowledge of Jensen Ackles's day to day life, makes you somewhat an expert on him?"

"Somewhat." Jared was getting leery of the soft tones and simple questions Murray lobbed at him.

"Mr. Padalecki, to your knowledge, does Dr. Ackles need help with his activities of daily living. By that, I mean, does he need assistance with eating properly, dressing himself, personal hygiene, taking his own medications. Any help with any of these?"

Jared's eyes drilled into Chad's. "Yes."

"Excuse me?"

"I said, yes. Yes, he needs help."

"In some or all of the activities?"

"All, but he has seizures, it's not like he can't…"

"To you _knowledge_ …" Chad cut him off. "Does Dr. Ackles pay his own bills, tend to his own stocks, bonds, holdings, etc., manage any aspect of his corporation, or have direct input in his overall finances?"

"I can't, I don't…"

"To your _knowledge_?"

"No."

"To your intimate knowledge, does Dr. Ackles have bouts of delusional thinking and mystical wanderings?"

"Yes."

"Has he ever gotten lost?"

"Not to my intimate knowledge." Jared had heard from Misha, but never witnessed where Jensen was unable to find his way home. Strictly speaking, it wasn't a lie. 

Chad let it go. "Dr. Ackles suffers from severe seizures, usually—but not always—controlled by medication. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Does Jensen Ackles pay for your services?"

"Yes."

"And what services do you render?"

"Like I said, I'm his body guard, handyman and gofer." Jared tensed for the next question.

"Before you were in Dr. Ackles employ, what did you do?"

"Objection, Your Honor," Jim said standing. "We've been through this. The record already states that Jared is a _former_ prostitute."

Chad said, with feigned chagrin. "My apology to the court for bringing up a sad tale of a horrible past, but Mr. Padalecki's past is part of the story, isn't it?"

"Objection overruled, Mr. Beaver, but move it along, Mr. Murray."

"Certainly, Your Honor. I'll repeat the question," Murray said. "Your past is part of this story, isn't it, Jared Tristan? _You_ are part of this story."

Jared's head was down, so he didn't know if it was supposed to be rhetorical or not. Even if it was, the answer was still, "Yes."

"Your Honor, Jared's not on trial here." Jensen stood and addressed the judge. "I am."

"Counselor, keep a rein on your client," Judge Lehne admonished.

Jim stood and laid his hand on Jensen's shoulder. "Sit down, Jen. It's okay, I'll take care of Jared."

"Actually, Dr. Ackles is correct; Mr. Padalecki is not on trial." Chad stood before the judge. "I was trying to elicit testimony from Mr. Padalecki suggesting that his motives toward Dr. Ackles were dishonorable. There's no question that life as a prostitute is tough. No one would choose the life of a street hooker, but it was a choice, Mr. Padalecki must have had to make. It's no wonder that, given another option, he'd choose a life with a kind, but unstable man, who thought that 'Tristan' was the love of his life. Jared Padalecki would be able to get off the street, at least for a while, and let this nice man take him in, feed and clothe him, and love him, in his own addled way. It would be like a vacation. A whore's vacation. And the funny thing?" Chad turned surprisingly sincere eyes to Jared. "I get it." 

Murray paced a few steps and said, "I understand that he chose a beautiful house on the beach, someone who loved him, and three meals a day, to a degrading, dangerous life as a prostitute."

Chad's sincerity never wavered. "I don't blame him. Dr. Ackles's compassion and caring coupled with the instant family created by these three individuals must have been overwhelmingly seductive. Like a gift." 

Jared's face was burning, so he looked away.

Chad turned on Jared. "But that doesn't excuse the fact that you took advantage of your benefactor's mental incapacity. Because _you_ wanted to get away from your street life and longed for a loving family is no excuse for manipulating this deranged man's emotions." Chad pointed to Jensen. 

"Is Counsel going to ask a question?" Jim Beaver asked.

"He's paying your room and board at his house while you get your GED, right?" Murray asked, quickly.

"Yes," Jared choked out.

"He's going to help you financially to obtain a college degree, isn't he?"

"Yes." Jared closed his eyes

"You can't even say that you love him, can you? You might say you're in awe of him and that you admire him, but so does Forbes 500. You're not doing him any favors, Jared. You're enabling his delusions and keeping him from getting the help and support he needs from his true family. It's time for you get out of his life and not take any more from him. It's wrong. It's just plain wrong."

"Trist! Don't listen… _Don't_." 

Jim sat Jensen down and said, "Sorry, Your Honor." Then to Jensen, "You have to stop. You'll only hurt your case."

"Mr. Padalecki," Murray said. "Admit it. Jensen needs around the clock care. He can't manage on his own, because he's too disabled. If you, indeed, are not stringing him along, it's possible that _next year's Tristan_ will.″

"I don't care about my case.″ Jensen sprang to his feet. ″I don't care. I don't _care_. It's _not_ true, Jared. You're _forever_ my Tristan." 

Chad disregarded Jensen's outburst, hammering into Jared. ″You _know_ that Dr. Ackles is incapable of caring for himself and living alone. I'll admit that he has enough sense to know that he needs help and hires people to take care of him, but isn't it true? He needs help?"

"We take care of him," Jared's voice was hushed.

"I want you to admit something, at least to yourself. You know you don't love him. You're grateful to him for taking you in and that's a good, truthful start. But, consider this, is he a competent individual? Ask yourself and answer truthfully. Can Jensen take care of himself? Can he know what is best for him? On his own, can he ever really be safe? Can you trust yourself, Jared, to be objective about this situation? Here is a man who has taken all the bad things in your life away. Does he deserve to be betrayed by you?"

Is that what he was doing? Had Jared's humanity been devoured so completely by the seedy streets that he didn't even know that was conning this man? 

"Jared, Judas sold Christ out for thirty pieces of silver. Have you been swayed by your new home, steady paycheck, the opportunity to go back to school and mostly, by the chance to get out of the prostitution business for good? Are these your thirty pieces of silver?"

"Your Honor! _Badgering_."

Chad Murray closed his mouth. 

Jared was sitting to the left of a _judge_ in a Delaware state courtroom, sworn to be truthful in giving testimony to keep a man's life, home and happiness intact. And people were listening. To _him_. He couldn't believe the incongruity of it all. Somehow, without even trying, he'd become important. Important to this case, important to Jensen. _Important_. When did that happen?

He didn't know but he took this newly discovered responsibility seriously. Right now, here, today, Jared _was_ important. He was worth something. Given these astonishing circumstances, Jared owed Jensen the whole truth—and nothing but.

″I'd like to answer that.″ 

After a short silence, the judge said, ″Go ahead.″ 

"Mr. Murray, Jensen Ackles is a most extraordinary person. He may be the most amazing human being who ever walked the Earth—Christ and Judas aside.″ 

″He designs wonderful inventions that save people all around the world. He's creative, he's caring, he's _gifted_ , and I know I'm not using him because…because," Jared turned to Jensen. "I love him."

Jensen let out a deep breath.

"Your Honor, _please_ ," Murray complained.

"I do." Jared said, almost disbelieving. He looked across the small courtroom and squarely into Jensen's eyes. "I love you."

"Address the court, Mr. Padalecki." 

"Judge Lehne," Jared straightened. "Dr. Ackles has more imagination, more devotion, and more courage than anyone I've ever known. He has such compassion and pure love for mankind—it's more than I thought was humanly possible.

″He's brilliant, and, judge, he has many more ideas to bring to life. Right now, he's close to finishing a new project.″ 

Jensen's face was flushed and beaming with pride. 

″He's so close to helping so many more people. He's kind, he's good, and despite what happened to him, he's grateful for it all.″ Jared tilted his head, looking directly at Chad. ″Mr. Murray, Jensen Ackles is, perhaps, closer to God than anyone else on this planet.″ 

The courtroom was silent of all but Jared's heavy breathing.

"I hear you,″ Chad said, softly. "I understand. I admit that he has come up with almost unbelievable machines, but I have one last question for you." He looked almost pained before asking, "Mr. Padalecki, does Dr. Ackles remember to shut the door behind him?"

Jared stared silently at the lawyer.

"I'll take that as a 'No.' That will be all, Your Honor."

~~*~~  
Part Four  
~~*~~

Jensen stood as Jared sat. "I want to go next."

Jim stood and shushed him. "Sit down, Jensen. Let me handle it, okay?"

"Don't you start, Jim," Jensen said, menacingly. "Don't you treat me like an idiot, too."

"I'm not, Jensen. It's that…," Jim stammered. "You're not a lawyer. You don't know all the ins and outs."

"Judge, I want to be sworn in." Jensen gave his lawyer a sorry smile. "If my attorney won't let me take the stand, I'll fire him on the spot and insist that I be allowed to give my testimony." 

Judge Lehne paused before saying, "Are you sure this is what you want? Do you think this is in your best interest?"

Jared got the impression that the judge was already swaying towards Jensen's side of the argument and didn't want Jensen, himself, screwing it up.

Jensen got to his feet and squared his shoulders. "Your Honor, I want to be heard. Call me to come up."

With no other recourse, Jim sat.

"Jensen Ackles, please come up to the witness stand and raise your right hand."

He turned around and patted Jared on the arm. "Don't worry, Tristan, my crazy has brought me this far, it will come through for us again."

The anxiety of the trial was taking its toll on him. Jensen's hands trembled, and his face was ashen pale. His eyes were glassy and his entire face was asymmetrical. His leg must have been bothering him because he walked with a pronounced limp up to the witness stand.

"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?

"Help me, God, Help me, God, so _help_ me, God.″

″Your reply is, 'I do,' Dr. Ackles.″

″I do.″

Jensen slid his hand off the bible and faced Mackenzie's attorney.

"State your name, please."

"Jensen Ross Ackles."

To Jared is sounded like, 'Jensarossicles.'

Chad walked up to the witness. "Do you know why we're here today, Dr. Ackles?"

"If you talk to me like I'm a three year old, I'm going to get pissed. I have PhDs from three..."

"Please, sir, stay on task and answer the question. We're not talking about any time before today; we're talking about right now. Do you know why you're here _today_?" The lawyer gave the small courtroom audience a look of pity toward Jensen.

Jensen rolled his eyes. "Yes, I know why we're here _today_. We're here to determine my competency for living."

"Competency for living?" Murray asked with exaggerated kindness. "Would you mind explaining that?"

"You and my sister want to declare me incompetent. My sister, whatever her reasons, thinks I can't manage my daily living, finances and emotions." Jensen looked sadly at Mackenzie. "You want to lock me away, take my money, remove my best friend from my home, and send the love of my life away." Jensen's breath hitched. "How can you want to do that, Mack?"

"Your Honor, please ask Dr. Ackles to address the court, and not my client."

Judge Lehne frowned. "Don't address the plaintiff, Dr. Ackles. Go on, Mr. Murray."

"The love of your life." Chad bowed his head. "You are aware that Jared Padalecki is a male prostitute, aren't you?"

"Okay, we'll start with the hooker thing. Yes, I am aware that Jared Padalecki was a male prostitute, but," Jensen suddenly smiled, "he preferred the term "gentleman of the evening." 

″Prostitution is a misdemeanor in Maryland. Jared Padalecki is a criminal.″

″Not anymore.″

Murray held a breath for a moment. "Dr. Ackles, did you know that your best friend, the one you've been living with for years, the one who takes care of your medications, your doctor's appointments, and cooks your meals—your assistant, Misha Collins, is a convicted felon?"

"Yes, I know that Misha did that. Was that."

Jared turned to Misha and asked, ″What did you do?″

″Grand theft, auto,″ Misha whispered harshly. ″Stole a car and totaled it when I was drunk, the night I graduated college.″ He paused. ″A really expensive car.″

"Dr. Ackles, do you know what a felon is?"

Jensen moaned. "Oh, for God's sake, stop talking to me like I'm stupid. I'm brain damaged, not an idiot." His eyes flashed. "There's a _difference_."

Chad continued, "So, you know that's why we can't turn your well-being over to Mr. Collins. He can't legally be appointed your guardian because he _is_ a felon. It's against the law."

"I don't need a guardian."

"According to your sister, who only wants what's best for you, you confessed that you rely on Mr. Collins for everything. Dr. Ackles, can you drive?"

"I can drive. I choose not to."

"Please tell the court why."

Jensen looked up at the judge. "Do I have to?"

"Relevance, Your Honor?" 

"It relates to his disability," Chad countered Jim's objection. "I believe it's important that we all see how truly challenged Dr. Ackles is."

Jim stood. "Your Honor, we stipulate that Dr. Ackles had brain tumor removal surgery with residual physical and neurological effects. We stipulate that his decision to refrain from driving is based on his desire to maintain safety for himself and others should a rare, neurological episode occur."

"What kind of episode, Dr. Ackles?" Chad pounced.

Jensen sank down in his seat. "Seizures."

"Any other lasting effects affecting your driving safety?"

Jensen shoulders sagged and he remained silent.

"Dr. Ackles?"

"Answer the question, sir." Judge Lehne said.

"I get confused and have bouts of, uh, excessive daydreaming."

"Meaning that you have delusions and hallucinations."

Jensen shrugged. "Tomato, tomahto." 

"Your Honor. _Relevancy_." Jim stood. "Dr. Ackles's rational decision to _not_ drive doesn't make him incompetent."

"Again, it speaks to the severity of his condition." 

"I'm allowing it."

Murray continued, "Your delusions and hallucinations have led you to break the law, have they not?"

"Christ, almighty," Jensen protested. "Before the brain tumor, pot, peyote, and Bud Lite caused delusions and hallucinations that led me to break the law. Was I incompetent back then, as well?"

There was a subtle change in the young lawyer's demeanor. "I told you, we are not discussing events from 'back then.'"

Jensen blinked and shot a look to his lawyer. Jim's lips were pressed together in thought. Jensen calmed, settling comfortably in the chair. He looked over and shot a sly smile to Jared.

"I guess you're right, Mr. Murray." Jensen said earnestly. "Young and stupid and stoned doesn't mean incompetent. It's not like a brain tumor."

"No, it's not. I guess." Murray looked questioningly at Jensen.

"Stupid stuff you do when you're young can sometimes go against you for life—like if you crash a Bentley.″ He raised his eyebrows at Misha. ″Otherwise it's a rite of passage. Being young and stupid doesn't mean you're incompetent. It's not like having a brain tumor, is it?"

"It's not, but I don't know what you're getting at, Dr. Ackles." Murray looked genuinely confused. 

"Mr. Murray," Jensen clarified patiently, "my youthful indiscretions didn't make me incompetent, but maybe they should have. The drugs, the alcohol, the one night stands for sexual gratification—which weren't all that gratifying being that they were with women—all goes with being young and not having...not knowing the...not, not, not." 

Jensen took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Being young and," he paused mouthing a couple of words. " _Inexperienced_. Young and inexperienced and thinking you can conquer the world, one bong hit at a time doesn't make you incompetent. Not like having a brain tumor."

"So, you have old drug habits?" Murray walked in front of the judge with a 'let him hang himself' look on his face. 

Jim Beaver sat solidly in his seat, quietly observing and not objecting.

"I guess you've never heard that _Youth is wasted on the young_. Right, Mr. Murray?" Jensen asked.

"Yes, I have… _what_ does that have to do with this case?"

"George Bernard Shaw," Jensen said, slurring the Bernard. "My youthful indiscretions were excused because I didn't know any better—and I didn't even appreciate them, because I was too _young_."

"Why are we talking about your youth?" Murray stepped up to the witness stand and rapped his knuckles against the wooden armrest of Jensen's chair. "Let's. Get. Back. To the. Case. At. Hand."

"We are." Jensen said. 

"We are what?" 

"We _are_ talking about the case at hand—we're talking about my past and how, back then, I wasn't incompetent, just stupid. Do you want me to repeat the part about not being sexually gratified by women?"

Mackenzie's lawyer stopped pacing and stared at Jensen. "What are you talking about?"

Jensen tilted his head to the side. "We _have_ been talking about my past. Before the brain tumor surgery. Before, when I was young and stupid but not incompetent—and you want to declare me an imbecile _now_ when I'm exactly the same as I was Before. Uh, minus the seizures. That's what we were talking about."

"We were _not_ discussing before." Murray brushed the words away.

"Oh, so we _weren't_ discussing things that happened before I had a brain tumor?"

"No."

"Then, why have you been talking to me about it for the past ten minutes?"

Chad paced around in a small circle, looking like he was getting his thoughts in place. Then he pasted a wide, friendly grin on his face. "I'm sorry, Dr. Ackles, but you are mistaken."

"No, I'm not. You asked, 'Why are we talking about your youth?' I know your question was intended for me because You. Knocked. On. My. Chair." Jensen copied the lawyer's action. 

"I wasn't talking about before the brain tumor."

"Yes you were." 

"I didn't mean Before, before."

"What other Before is there for me?" This time Jensen turned to Judge Lehne.

"I object, Your Honor." 

"You can't object, Mr. Murray. He's your witness."

"Dr. Ackles. Jensen. I wasn't talking about your life before surgery. I was talking about life in general. Now, tell me. What did you think you were doing, attacking an irrigation system in a soybean field?"

"Yeah, no. You asked if I had any old drug habits. My alleged drug habits were before the brain tumor. You engaged me in a conversation about my youthful indiscretions. My indiscretions were very youthful and way before my surgery. And, I'll repeat, you asked, 'Why are we talking about your youth.' You said we. You asked two follow up questions. One was "We are what?" and the next was "What are you talking about?" Ask the court reporter to read it back."

″No need.″ The judge glanced at court reporter nodding her agreement.

Jensen looked up at the judge with wide innocent eyes. "Since _he_ brought it up and talked about my Before, shouldn't I be able to talk about it? Or I could wait for my lawyer to come up and rebut, since, obviously, Mr. Murray, here, allowed this line of questioning." 

"He's right, Counselor," the judge said. "You opened that can of worms." 

Murray bit his tongue and squinted fiercely at Jensen. "Dr. Ackles."

"Yes?" Jensen said, innocently.

"Doctor Ackles." Murray repeated with a faux friendly smile.

"Is that your way of saying, 'go ahead?'" Jensen asked.

The judge looked out on the courtroom, eying Jensen's lawyer. Jim remained seated and said to the judge, "Still not objecting, Your Honor."

"Since you specifically asked about Before." Jensen stretched his arms and then folded his hands cracking his knuckles. The pale and shaky defendant was now transformed into a bright-eyed, bouncing scientist, creator of magical machines. "I would like to address the court."

"Your _Honor_."

"Go ahead, Dr. Ackles." 

"Your Honor, did you know that I invented amazingly smart devices, activated by incredibly precise sensors? Did you know that I made machines that _know_ how to save lives? And they do, they save lives. I've sold a lot of them and they're not exactly cheap."

"Your Honor, we know all about..."

"Quiet, Counselor." The judge tilted his head toward Jensen. ″Continue.″

"Your Honor, sir, I need to tell you about how I was _before_ the brain tumor operation. How I was Before—in order to now defend myself, my assets and my family, now." Jensen smiled proudly at Misha and Jared.

"You have the floor, sir." The judge said solemnly, but his eyes twinkled.

"Your Honor, I save people from drowning almost every rainy season, and that's not delusional thinking, that's a fact." Jensen spoke earnestly. "Did you know that I designed bridges that recognize, no, no, no."

Jensen briefly fisted his hair, then started again. "Because of global changes and climate conditions like La Niña, and El Niño, precipitation has steadily increased in all forms all around the world. Rain and melting snow causes rivers to rise and sometimes crest so high that they wash out bridges on flood prone highways. Motorists are sometimes stranded, or worse, swept away by the moving currents. 

"I designed systems that, when flood waters are calculated to overflow the riverbanks—the bridges rise up. When the sensors receive information that the water has risen to flood stage, it activates the bridge to disengage from the roadway and lift up on _hydraulic legs_. After the bridge is high above the flood waters, the sensors deploy ramps, allowing people to drive over the swollen rivers and not be trapped in their cars. Isn't that cool, Your Honor?"

He looked out at Jared, "That was my Sassy 3189."

"I know," Jared said. "She's amazing."

Jensen's eyes glittered as he spoke to Jared. "You probably know this, because you're so smart about so many things and you read so much, and I'd love you even if you weren't so smart, but I also created a device that –when sensors detect tornado strength winds—wind shields are deployed to protect houses, barns and silos against F5 winds. Did you know that, Trist?" Jensen's smile was wide and bright.

Jared returned Jensen's broad smile. ″That's Sassy 2005. She tells her families to get into the cellars and out of the way of the funnel cloud.″

"I knew you did. I _knew_ you did."

"Your Honor," Murray interrupted. "Remind the doctor to keep his remarks to the bench and not to him." He waved at Jared.

"All right, Mr. Murray. Dr. Ackles?"

"Yes, sir, what?"

"Talk to me, not to Mr. Padalecki." 

"Yes, sir, not to Jared," Jensen swiveled his head to the judge. "Your Honor, that Tornado Wind Warning and Wind Shield System is my Sassy 2005. I thought about calling her TW3S2, but Misha said that name would interrupt the Sassy name flow." He grinned at Misha. "And he was right—again."

"Your Honor, how long must we listen to this?"

"Yes, that's also what Misha said, only without the irritating tone you use."

Jensen turned back to the judge. "I created Sassys that warn and protect families against wind, rain, and flood. But, oh! Y'Honor, let me tell you about another favorite. She's the pretty, little Sassy 20. It's a warning and protection system, most popular where wildfires are common, but some rich city families have them, too. I invented Sassy 20 to 'sense' when wildfires or fires outside the domicile are approaching. The sensors alert the homes, and the homes _themselves_ , alert the residents to evacuate. Then the sensors deploy heat shields to protect the house and property. It also works as an adjunct to an inside alarm system if the fire starts inside the house. Then Sassy 20 gets the people to wake up and go outside while she battles the blaze. I love her."

Jensen beamed, looking up from the witness stand in all his damaged perfection. "I've made air travel safer, I've made elevators smarter, and I've made sonar sensors for automobiles that help them avoid collisions, and devices that temporarily _repair_ the cars and trucks if they do get damaged—with auto inflating tires and automatic overrides that tap into spare energy cells to make the vehicle's systems fully electric to power the car long enough to get it to safety. If it's at all drivable." Jensen took a deep breath and smiled. "I save lives." 

Jared watched Jensen wow the courtroom.

"Oh." Jensen's head snapped up. "And you know what else, Judge? I invented all these unbelievably crazy, insane, awesome machines Before. Before I developed a brain tumor. Before I had extensive surgery on my head to remove it. Before they irradiated the rest of my brain." Jensen ruffled his hair with his hand, exposing the scars encircling his head. "Before this."

The judge looked at the scars then looked pointedly at Murray.

Jensen spoke with his hands flying. "But I'm lucky. I'm so lucky. I could have died. I could have become a vegetable, I could have become empty, but instead, I became, _me_. The me I've always been, only better. Well, maybe a little bit crazier. But I wouldn't go back because I'm still working on life saving devices and I need the crazy to do that. I'm fortunate, because the brain tumor _didn't_ take the crazy. The crazy is how I invented my inventions in the first place."

Jared watched as Jensen sat tall and fine, finding all his words, talking to the judge about his creations.

"I'm working on several projects now: sensor activated devices to keep ships at sea safe, wave turbines for cheap, unlimited energy, geothermal devices for heating and cooling on a planetary scale using the Earth, herself, as a source of power. A crazy imbecile, exactly like Before." He addressed his last remark to Murray, but then he turned toward Jared, "My inventions—aren't they something?"

"More than something, Jen," Jared replied. 

"I was going to try to harness the Earth's rotation as a source of electricity, but even I thought that was too far out." Jensen laughed.

"So, Dr. Ackles you, _yourself_ , admit," Murray thrust his index finger into Jensen's face. "That you _now_ have thoughts that you, uh, _yourself_ admit are quote _too far out_." 

Jensen's nose scrunched in thought.

"Objection, Your Honor," Jim stood and pronounced.

"On what grounds?" Murray gritted out.

"Redundancy."

"Excuse me, Counselor?" Judge Lehne scratched his chin.

"I get it!″ Jensen said, delightedly. ″You yourself admit, you yourself admit," Jensen repeated softly then, "I myself admit, I myself admit. _Redundant_."

"Jensen." Jim's mildly amused voice was soft but firm.

"Okay, okay." Jensen straightened up and addressed the judge. "Sir, I myself _submit_ that I myself was just as quirky, just as eccentric, just as dependent on Misha, just as diff...unusu," Jensen smacked his head softly. "Just as weird, before the brain tumor as I am now. I assure you that I am as intelligent, as able and as capable as Before, but happier and less inhibited, thank God."

Jensen turned his head in Mack's direction. "Less inhibited, thank God, because now I don't care who knows. Before, I didn't want anyone to know I was gay, so I dated women. I already had a reputation for being crazy and having wild ideas and I figured telling people that I was attracted to men would, well..." Jensen paused, his mouth working, looking for the right words. He shook his head and shrugged silently. "I should have been less afraid and more honest and come out you and the family a long time ago—before you learned it the way you did, Mackenzie. I'm sorry."

Jensen looked up at the judge. "Now, I know what's important. I take time indulging in my new appreciation for life. _My_ life. I sit out on the deck watching the dolphins swim. I enjoy splashing my feet in the water while the critters skitter on the wet sand in the time between the waves. 

″Granted, I think of different ways I can make energy from the sun, wind and water, but mostly I sit back and thank God I'm here on Earth at all. I enjoy the simple pleasure of breathing the sea air. The scents of the ocean, coconut oil, popcorn and low tide have so much more meaning now because I almost wasn't here to smell them."

Jensen paused in thought. "Your Honor, I can't describe the joy, the daily blessings of arguing with Misha over blueberry versus chocolate chip pancakes, and wrapping my arms around Jared all night long. Thanking God every day that I'm still here, still here, still _here_. So, please Your Honor, please, can I keep my home, my family and my life?"

Judge Lehne sat back and steepled his fingertips. 

"Your Honor," Murray intoned weakly. "He names his machines. What sane individual names machines?"

Jensen turned apologetic eyes to Mackenzie. "My sister named her first car Fiona." He looked up at the judge. "But she's not insane just because she named her car."

"Dr. Ackles, you are, indeed, a unique individual."

"Unique's not the same as incompetent, judge your honor." 

"No, unique is not the same as incompetent. You may stand down." 

Jensen returned to his seat and Jim patted him on the back.

Judge Lehne looked out on the courtroom, then at his watch. "This case needs careful consideration for the health and safety of all parties involved. I am ordering a recess to study all the aspects of this case and eat lunch. We will meet back here in two hours for closing arguments."

The judge stood. The court officer said, "All rise." 

~~*~~

Jensen huddled on a bench in the corner of a conference room now being used as a waiting room. Misha paced while Jared sat, rubbing Jensen's back and shoulders. Jim had gone for coffee.

"Don't worry, Jensen. You did great. The judge will agree that you are sane, intelligent, and safe with us."

Jensen covered his face with his arm and mumbled into it. Jared gently pulled his arm away.

"What did you say?" Jared stroked Jensen's neck as he clasped his hand.

"What if he's right?" Jensen's voice was low and scared.

"Right about what?" Jared ran his fingers through Jensen's hair.

"What if Mackenzie's lawyer is right and I am incompetent? What if I am insane and don't realize it?" Jensen looked up at Jared with wide, scared eyes. ″I mean, how insane is _that_?″

"Jensen, if you doubt yourself then you doubt Misha and you doubt me." Jared pulled back. "Do you doubt that Misha has nothing but the best intentions?" 

Jensen shook his head.

"Say it," Jared said, gently.

"No," he said, softly. "I don't doubt Misha. Not at all. No doubt. No." 

Jared licked his lips and asked, "Do you doubt me? Do you think that I'm an opportunistic hustler looking for a vacation from hooking and someone to bankroll me so I can go to school?"

"Oh, my God, Jared, _no_." Jensen sat straight. "No."

"Then trust yourself. You're not insane, you're not incompetent, you're…," Jared turned Jensen's face to his. "You're just right."

"I am, aren't I?" Jensen smiled. 

"You so very are," Jared said, returning his smile. "And I love you, I love you, I _love_ you."

"Yes. I'm okay." Jensen snaked his arms around Jared. Watching the door standing between them and the rest of the building, he said, " _We're_ okay. Bring it on, Mr. Murray. Bring it on."

~~*~~

"Mr. Murray? Are you ready with your closing argument?" 

"I am, Your Honor. First, I would like to state how heartsick my client is to have to bring this action before a judge. My client's concerned only for what's best for her brother." Murray looked meaningfully at the judge. 

"That having been said I can't ignore what Dr. Ackles, himself, brought up in court today. I tried—in vain—to keep his life from before the surgery out of this trial, as the only important facts are the ones that pertain to the here and now. But since he insisted, I regretfully have to point out that before the brain tumor surgery, Dr. Ackles was a brilliant, well-respected scientist who regularly published professional articles, monographs and updates on state-of-the-art research from all around the world. He managed his corporations, his research, and his private life, hiring the appropriate assistants required of a high level executive in his position, and he did so independently.

"That, Your Honor, was how his life was before he sat back to watch the dolphins." 

Chad walked from the window to the door before saying, "Today, Judge Lehne, Dr. Ackles's life is a different story. He hasn't published _any_ papers since he had the surgery over three years ago. He relies on a convicted felon to manage his daily necessities including turning off the shower, closing the windows and handing out his medications. Dr. Ackles has become delusional in that he admits openly that the male prostitute he picked up on the street, is 'the love of his life.' The doctor's sister states that before the brain tumor, he dated women exclusively. Remember, the doctor, himself, made mention of having sex with women."

Chad turned away from the judge, and glanced at Mackenzie. Jared figured they were going for the one-two punch.

Murray lowered his voice to a more compassionate tone. "Your Honor, there is another, larger issue here that needs to be pursued. It is, perhaps, the greatest issue of this case. Please understand that this is not a criticism of the defendant, but the court should not ignore the fact that, as I brought up in my opening, Dr. Ackles is a vulnerable adult."

"Oh for Lassie's sake," Jensen said.

"Jensen, shh." Jim hushed.

"Vulnerable adult." Chad repeated, forcefully. "We all know the definition." He turned abruptly toward Jared, "Or maybe we all don't." 

Jared held his eyeballs from rolling through shear will. 

"A vulnerable adult is a person over eighteen who needs personal care to live at home." Murray held up one finger. "Dr. Ackles admits that he needs Mr. Collins to take care of him."

"A vulnerable adult is one with learning or physical disabilities or a reduction in physical or mental capacity, where he depends upon others for assistance for basic functions i.e. taking medications, getting bathed and dressed after a seizure, etc." He held up a second finger.

"A vulnerable adult has impairments when communicating with others," Murray lightly hit his head with an open palm, mimicking Jensen's nervous habit. "A vulnerable adult cannot protect himself against assault, abuse, neglect or _exploitation_."

Chad turned kind eyes to Jensen. "You, Dr. Ackles, are a vulnerable adult. There is no shame or stigma involved with that. It isn't your fault, and I want to assure you that you are the innocent party here."

"Your Honor," Beaver stood.

"Keep your remarks to me, Mr. Murray."

"Yes, sir. Dr. Ackles is a disabled, vulnerable adult who has, either through delusion or perceived friendship, surrounded himself with criminals. Both these men have wheedled their way into his confidence.″ 

Chad turned to Jensen. ″ _He_ trusts them, but Jensen's family, his true, family, does not. Dr. Ackles has shut them out, preferring a felon and a prostitute over his own blood. His parents and siblings fear for his health, his well-being and happiness, and fear that his financial interests are not being tended to appropriately. We ask the court to grant the Ackles family guardianship and conservatorship of Jensen and his estate to suitably care for him and safely plan for his future.″

Murray sat next to a weeping Mackenzie. 

Jim Beaver stood and took his place before the judge. He looked up, first at Judge Lehne, sitting high on the bench, and then over at Mackenzie.

"Where is the rest of the Ackles' family?" Jim asked, plaintively.

"Where were they before this trial? Before suing Jensen for the possession of all his worldly goods and asking the court to hand over the keys to managing his health, finances, friendships, and activities of daily living? Where were they? Where are they now?"

Jim looked over his left shoulder and then his right. "They are nowhere. Jensen's family, virtually and literally abandoned him. And, except for this one little girl pleading her case as to why they should have full and complete control over everything of value to him, I don't see them here now. _Now_. When they need to be supportive in this very serious life altering proceeding, I ask again, where is Jensen's family?"

″Oh, wait a minute,″ Jim said looking at Misha and Jared sitting directly behind Jensen. ″There they are.″

Jim addressed the judge. "Alan and Donna Ackles, Jensen's parents, Joshua and Mackenzie Ackles, Jensen's siblings, ignored the medical emergency unfolding in the form of a massive brain tumor, and turned their backs, hoping that Misha Collins would continue to care for Dr. Ackles as he had for the previous eight years."

"Eight and a half," Jensen chirped.

Jim briefly turned to Jensen and smiled. "Eight and a half."

"Isn't it funny, that of all the evidence and testimony presented, nowhere did it state that Jensen's family was denied access to him? That's because they weren't. So, where were they when Jensen was diagnosed with a brain tumor? Or before that when he was having cluster headaches, on a regular basis? Where were they when Jensen began smelling odd spices and temporarily losing vision in one eye? Where were they when he began having shooting head pains so bad he vomited before blacking out from them?" Jim raised his hands, imploringly.

"We don't know where they were, but we know where Misha Collins was. He was taking Jensen to doctors, taking him to specialists, taking him for second and third opinions, taking him to the hospital for surgery, staying with him through the post-surgical nights and later driving him back and forth to his therapy sessions, and radiation treatments. I guess that's how Mr. Murray defines Mr. Collins "wheedling his way" into Jensen's confidence.

"You know what else is funny?" Jim turned toward Mackenzie, and then back toward Judge Lehne. "Neither Dr. Ackles nor Mr. Collins remember Jensen's family being around during the process of adapting Jensen to his new life of seizures, medications, transient aphasia, mood swings, and occasional, painful, left sided weakness. But now that it's all resolved, _now_ they want to take charge of him? Really?"

"But this isn't Mr. Collins's story, or Mackenzie Ackles's story. It's Jensen's. Jensen Ackles did, indeed, have a life threatening, life altering condition. It was a non-cancerous brain tumor approximately three inches in diameter with tendrils radiating primarily into his frontal lobes. 'A baseball with tentacles' as he describes it."

"The court has read the depositions from our expert witnesses, and from the plaintiff's. As is sometimes the case, and as Your Honor has already stated, all the testimony from the medical, physical, emotional and behavioral specialists have cancelled each other out. The court has no other option but to rely on live testimony and gut feeling to arrive at a verdict, because the fact of the matter is…"

Jim raised his voice. "There _is_ no decisive opinion. No expert _can_ render one true decision regarding Jensen's state of mind and body. And I also submit—there is no one, definitive medical statement substantiating his vulnerability either.

"So I say, look at him. Despite it all, look how healthy he is, how well cared for he is, and how happy he is. Look, Your Honor, and you'll see that he is in good hands.

″What this trial brought into the open is that Jensen is functioning the same as he did before the surgery, except with prescription medications for seizures and less inhibitions about his life, loves and sexual orientation. 

″Before the surgery, Jensen created innovative, important, and lucrative inventions. From what he's saying, he's still at the drawing board. But now that his family wants custody of him, they want, not only to keep his friends, his loves, and his comings and goings under close scrutiny, they want to take that drawing board away. 

_″He can't be trusted making inventions anymore_ , isn't that what his sister said? The family wants to deny him his livelihood as well?"

Jim paced a few steps, apparently lost in thought. "Hmm…if he is a vulnerable adult and as disabled as his family claims, _and_ if they don't want him inventing anymore, the Americans With Disabilities might have something to say about them denying Dr. Ackles the right to make a living."

″See? The more you interfere in someone's life″ He addressed the judge, but turned to Mackenzie and her lawyer. ″The messier is gets.″

Jim walked back and sat next to his client.

Chad stood. "Your Honor, the opposing counsel threatening us with the ADA was a brilliant diversion, but one fact remains clear." He raised his arm and circled around to Mackenzie. "There, Your Honor. There is Jensen Ackles's family. His sister, not a car thief, not a prostitute, but his _sister_ is his family, and he needs support from his loving family and not by the criminal elements of society." His eyes fell hard on Jared and then on Misha before sitting next to a sobbing Mackenzie Ackles.

″Goddamned Bentley, ″ Misha hissed.

″All right, gentlemen, I've heard enough. Short recess.″

The judge's robes swished as he exited the room.

~~*~~

Judge Lehne returned to the courtroom twenty minutes later and spoke without preamble. 

″When money and resources are scarce, when there are no friends and family, when supports for everyday living are non-existent, or, when there's abuse, neglect or exploitation, then it is a compassionate society's responsibility to take care of those who cannot care for themselves. 

"It is the court's duty and obligation to come to a correct and just decision regarding whether someone's physical abilities and/or, mental faculties are so impaired that it limits their independence. If that is the case, then the court is bound to protect that individual by delegating that responsibility to another party, making sure that the individual's needs are met. Life as it is isn't always fair or easy. Seldom is it fair or easy. Life isn't always as it should be."

Judge Lehne sat forward in his chair.

"Having said that, I have lived over fifty years, and I have seen the lives of people living on the fringe of society hanging on by a thread. Pain, misery, hunger, loneliness beyond belief. Living life as it is and not as it should be.

 

"I'm not naïve. I started out as a cop in Baltimore, and have seen the lives of men and women snuffed out on the mean streets, or die more slowly under a haze of drugs and alcohol. I held one bleeding boy in my arms at his final moment, and I locked another boy away for life without the possibility of parole. These were children who saw life as it is, and they lived and died despairing. No glory, no gallant last words –only their eyes filled with confusion, whimpering the question, "Why?" 

 

″I don't think they asked why fate had dealt them such a lousy hand, but why they had _been born at all_."

 

The judge paused and looked out into the courtroom. "To the plaintiff I say: When life itself seems crazy, who knows where madness lies? Perhaps to be too practical is madness. To surrender dreams — this may be madness. To seek treasure where there is only trash. Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all—to see life as it is, and not as it should be. 

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, sometimes sanity is overrated. If every peculiar, different, or bizarre individual was put under guardianship and monitored by the courts, what an unjust and boring world this would be.″ 

 

The judge addressed Mackenzie. ″You have not met the burden of proof in your case. I don't believe that your brother is in harm's way, nor do I believe he's being manipulated, mistreated or exploited by the people he lives with. I believe they love him. I believe he is happy and well cared for. I think he's nutty as a fruitcake, but probably no more so than he was before the surgery. He has suffered a serious trauma, but has recouped enough to put the supports in place he needs to live safely. He's not a danger to himself or others as long as his family and caregivers watch over him properly.

 

″But you do have a responsibility, Miss Ackles. I agree that Dr. Ackles's immediate and extended family should be involved in his health and welfare. I believe you _all_ should take an active role in his life. You, personally, need to check on him and keep track of his condition along with the other members of his family. 

 

″This court rules that Jensen Ackles is free to go home with the people he chooses. I further recommend that Dr. Ackles's family, consisting of his mother, father, sister, brother and any of their significant others, visit him at least quarterly: Easter, July fourth, Thanksgiving, and Christmas, for example, to check on him and celebrate his life with him.″

 

Jared recognized that Judge Lehne had, in his summation, paraphrased Dale Wasserman almost to the letter. The judge was now looking directly at him and Misha. Jared's chest shuddered with his inability to breathe. 

 

″The world needs more of Dr. Ackles's gentle insanity. So gentlemen,″ he addressed them, "take this unique person home and see that he is safe, happy, and kept out of trouble, or we _will_ reconvene." The judge struck the soundboard with his gavel and stood. 

 

″All rise,″ the officer pronounced.

 

Jensen stood, raised both arms out and whooped. Jared jumped over the railing with Misha right behind. Jensen threw his arms around Jared, and Misha leaped into Jim's lap. 

 

"See? I knew the judge wouldn't rule against you," Jared murmured into Jensen's hair. "I knew it."

 

"You did, you did, you _did_." Jensen pressed his lips to Jared's neck. 

 

Jared felt a gentle tapping on his shoulder. He saw Mackenzie waiting patiently, off to the side. Chad Murray tapped Jared's shoulder again.

 

Both Jensen and Jared straightened up with their arms tight around each other.

 

"Mr. Murray?" Jared asked.

 

"Mr. Padalecki, Dr. Ackles, Mackenzie asked me to help make arrangements for your families getting together. When it's convenient, of course." Chad lowered his voice, saying to Jensen. "She thought you might not want to speak directly to her about it."

 

"And she thinks _I'm_ crazy." Jensen disengaged from Jared and flung himself at Mack. 

 

Jared stood back as brother and sister embraced. Jared heard soft words, laughter, an occasional sob, and Mack say, 'Fiona?'

 

Maybe it wasn't perfect, but for them, it was life as it should be.

~~*~~  
Epilogue:  
~~*~~

Jared nervously fingered his silver cufflinks, a present from Jensen. He looked in the mirror, adjusted his hair, and breathed into his hand to make sure his breath didn't offend.

Misha walked into the room looking dapper, wearing a tuxedo slightly more purple than the one Jared wore. ″You look great,″ he said. ″Jensen will have you up against the wall in a heartbeat.″

Jared blushed and straightened his tie. 

″Tristan!″ Jensen bounced into the living room of the Fenwick Island house they all shared. ″You look amazing, incredible.″ He opened his arms and hugged all the air out of Jared's lungs.

″I'll be driving,″ Misha said. ″I'm thinking the Benz?″

″What color is the Mercedes, again?″ Jensen asked.

″Black.″ Misha took the keys from the key rack mounted on the wall.

″Yes, black looks good on all of us.″ Jensen laughed. ″I have waited a long time for this. Long time, long time, long _time_.″ 

Jared swallowed nervously. 

″Don't worry, Trist,″ Jensen said taking his hand. ″You'll do fine. We'll all do fine.″

Misha looked at his watch. ″Well gang, lock and load. Meet me out front.″

Jensen let go of Jared's hand and turned to face him. ″It's done. We did it. A new launch and a new start.″

Jared fiddled with the gold ring on the third finger of his left hand. His eyes were bright when he said, ″I'm so proud. Proud of you and proud of what you've done.″ 

″Thank you,″ Jensen said, his smile never wavering. ″I'm glad you're here. I'm glad that you get to see my wonderful, new Sassy 719. The first one will be situated off the coast of Newfoundland. Wave energy from the Earth's one true source of perpetual motion.″

″Wave turbine generators. Just like you described when we first met.″

″I told you so,″ Jensen said, holding out his left hand with his matching ring.

″You've taught me so much, given me so much.″ Jared's took the proffered hand. ″After all this time, I still thank God. I still thank you. You've given me everything.″ 

″Not yet,″ Jensen winked. ″Tonight, maybe. If I don't drink too much. You know how wine makes me sleepy.″

″No wine for you, then,″ Jared laughed.

″What a wild, insane ride we're on, Jared.″ Jensen squeezed Jared's hand as Misha beeped the Mercedes Benz's horn in the driveway.

″Sanity's overrated anyway.″ Jared leaned down and quick kissed his cheek.

Jensen paused, ″There are times I think I'm imagining you, that you are a perfect hallucination." He took a step closer to Jared and lowered his voice. "Misha tells me you're real, but sometimes I don't believe him because he still says things to make me happy. He says things to keep me going, so sometimes he has to lie to me. But you're not a dream, are you Jared? You're really here, right?″

Jared placed Jensen's hand on his own cheek. "Look at me, Jensen. Here I am. Here I've been for the past six years."

Jensen gazed at him. "Yes," he said, running his fingers across Jared's face. " _There_ you are. As real as anything I have ever known. You saved me, you know. From loneliness, from true insanity, from unhappiness. You saved me so I could _be_ me.″

″Ah, but you saved me first.″ Jared kissed his fingertips. ″From the streets, from the law, from myself.″ 

Jensen smiled. ″We saved each other.″

Jared repeated, ″We saved each other.″ 

The car horn blared again.

″So, now it's time for you to save the world.″ Jared opened door. "Again."

Jensen walked outside. Jared gave Sadie's head a pat, turned off the lights, and then closed and locked the door behind them.

~~~fin~~~

  


**Author's Note:**

> Links (because I love them so):
> 
> **Medical**  
> [Brain Tumors in Adults ](http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/007222.htm%20)  
> [ Wikipedia—Frontal Lobe Disorder](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Frontal_lobe_disorder%20)  
> [ Cranial (Skull) Base Surgery](http://cornellent.org/healthcare_services/cranial_skull_base_surgery.html)  
> [ Aphasia Hope Foundation](http://www.aphasiahope.org/faq/)  
> [](http://www.epilepsy.com)Epilepsy Therapy Project  
> [Epilepsy in Adults](http://www.patient.co.uk/doctor/Epilepsy-in-Adults.htm)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Legal**  
> [Guardianship Information ](http://guardianships.whocanisue.com/%20)  
> [Example of a Trial Process ](http://www.cookcountycourt.org/about/trial.html)  
> [Delaware Code 3901—Appointment of Guardians for Disabled Persons ](http://codes.lp.findlaw.com/decode/12/39/I/3901%20)  
> [Delaware Code 4102—Bond and Powers of Conservator ](http://codes.lp.findlaw.com/decode/12/41/4102%20)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **Fun Facts to Know and Share**  
> [Fenwick Island, Delaware](http://www.fenwickisland.org/)  
> [Atlantic Bottle-Nosed Dolphins](http://www.beach-net.com/dolphins.html)  
> [ Dale Wasserman](http://www.dalewasserman.com/)  
> [ Too Much Sanity speech from _Man of La Mancha_ with Peter O'Toole, 1972](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ttTDDa5r_vo)  
> [Tracy Chapman's _Fast Car_ ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bfqEisOIMJc%20)  
> [ Farm Irrigating Systems ](http://www.traxcoirrigation.com/our-company)  
> [copper wire thieves](http://www.mdfarmbureau.com/Spotlights/2012/March2012.pdf%20)  
> [Jared's Ron Jon shirt](http://www.ronjonsurfshop.com/men/apparel/ronjon_tees/ronjon_resin_lines_tee.aspx?DepartmentId=776)  
> [Smack Em Yak Em ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cpmsxp9Ms3k&feature=related%20)  
> [La Niña and El Niño info](http://library.thinkquest.org/5818/elnino.html%20%20)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> **And, in case you didn't catch the reference:**  
> [The Galleria of Jewelry](http://www.jared.com/%20%20)


End file.
